Somebody Completely Different
by parisoriginal
Summary: Chronicles of sexual encounters between Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray ultimately leading to something more.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** This is just a one shot for now. The writing style is something I whipped up. I liked not using names until much later into the story. Feel free to comment and review. Should I continue this? What are your suggestions?

Enjoy ;)

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><p><em>How could I say no? How could I decline your offer? Was it even an offer? Was I inviting myself?<em>

There she stands in all her beauty.

_When did I start to see you under a different light? When did I stop thinking about the horrible things you've made me endure? When did I stop being scared and start to feel intrigued? _

All these questions run through my head as she stands there. She looks at me through hazel eyes and a confused facial expression. She looks like she's going to open her mouth to ask why I'm just staring at her, but I know she doesn't really want to know why. I take three steps toward her. She doesn't move back. My eyes hover over her perfectly shaped lips and right then I start to feel warm. The feeling emanates from my center and spreads over my body. Who'd have thought looking at a person's lips could be so arousing?

I close in further. Again, she doesn't move back.

_Do you want me? Do you want me to come closer? Do you want me to touch you? Do you? Do you? Do you?_

There is no sound. I place my hand on hers. She does not pull it away. She looks down at it like she's watching something magical and inexplicable; then she looks back up at me. My eyes must be black because she is bewildered, but she doesn't move back. I lift my other hand and I cannot help but touch her. By this time, we are inches apart. I can feel her warm breath on my face. I trace my fingers along her cheek. She flutters her eyelids. Her face is warm, very warm. The blush flourishes from beneath my fingers as if I painted her flesh. They travel down her jaw and finally reach her lips. They part. My fingertips follow the outline like a pen on paper. Her eyes never leaving mine. It is probably one of the most erotic things I have ever experienced and all I am doing is touching her lips.

_I really want to kiss you. I really want to kiss you. Please, let me kiss you. Let me kiss you._

You know those moments when you're in a classroom and your teacher asks a question you do not know the answer to, and you keep chanting 'please don't pick me, please don't pick me' and yet, she picks you? Yeah, this is not one of those moments. She definitely wants to kiss me. No, this is not simply because I am arrogant and full of myself. So, how do I know? Well, she's looking at me with her eyelids half open, her gaze journeys from my eyes to my lips, her breathing is losing control, and heck, her whole body is starting to lose control.

This is my chance. I slowly lift my heels, inching closer and closer. I am at her eye level. Our foreheads are touching. _God, I don't know what to do_. Our noses are touching. _Lord almighty help me_. All I hear then is a hiss and a whisper and my entire world comes crashing down.

Down on my lips, that is. The feel of her lips on mine is like when the elevator descends just a little too fast; like the alleviating feel of entering a heated place from the harsh cold of a December day; like your favorite flavor igniting your taste buds; like heaven. Our tongues are a twisted lollipop; our flavors intertwine. It is like we've been here before, like we've dreamt it or felt it in our deepest thoughts. I could pull apart from her to ask, but I am in it too deep right now.

It is she who breaks the kiss, but only to gasp for air; I, however, am selfish. _I want more. I want more. I want more_. I look at her; her eyes are closed. I want her to open her eyes. I want her to see how much I want her lips on mine once more. Neither of us speaks. I decide to let her have her moment. The anticipation is almost too much to bear so I take a hold of her top and pull her closer to me.

This time I almost open my mouth to speak, but she occupies it with her own. _God, your lips; I want your lips on mine forever. _I hesitate thinking this as the idea of her reading my mind enters my train of thought. I don't want to scare her away. I want her close so I place my hands in her hair and bring her neck towards me. And then I hear it: a single moan. I feel like a soufflé. My knees get weak and give out causing me to tumble on her. She catches me and our lips never part. Instead she walks backward toward the piano bench.

The back of her legs hit the bench and she parts from me once more. She sits. I stand. My hand is still behind her neck, her hand remains on mine. She beckons me closer. I am dumbfounded. _She wants me. She wants me to move closer_. I do. I take one knee and place it next to her thigh. I look at her. She looks back at me. She beckons me closer. She places her hands on my hips for support and leans back as I lift my other leg to straddle her. This is exhilarating. My blood is rushing to my face. I can feel my cheeks flush and I hide my face for a second. Then I feel a lift beneath my chin. She has bent her index finger and used it to lift my gaze onto her eyes. _God, it's like I'm in a movie_. Is someone going to yell 'cut' yet? Where are the camera and the crew?

Her eyes look from one of mine to the other, searching. _What are you looking for?_ I don't know, but whatever it is, I'll give it to her. _How in the world am I feeling so safe with the girl who's put me through hell and back?_ Funny thing is, I don't care right now. All I want to do is kiss her again.

It doesn't take long for her to do what I wanted. She pulls me close by the collar of my dress, her knuckles white. _What is she so afraid of? Me falling? Literally or figuratively?_ As far as I know, it could go both ways, this bench is not as sturdy as it looks. I don't know what to do with my hands so I place them around the back of her neck. She is wearing her hair down today. I let my fingers crawl up her scalp and her eyes magically disappear behind her eyelids. I wonder what she's thinking. Should I ask her? _What are you thinking, tell me, talk to me._

I move in closer to her face. I can smell the Chap Stick on her lips. I want to taste it again, but I refrain. I have never felt this sexy before. My forehead is against hers and all I hear is our breathing, labored at that. Just being this close to her, me straddling her, my lips hovering over her deliciously strawberry covered lips, I am so close. I know that if she touches me where I want her to touch… I would surely be a goner.

_God, just look at those lips! Why, why, why, why have we waited this long?_

So many words unsaid, ultimately, it's better this way. There was a mutual understanding. She looks at me, finally, and I look back at her. I bite my lip and as soon as my teeth let go I pull myself closer so that our bodies are completely linked. My chin is now against hers and our lips, parted, are like magnets, but I don't want to kiss her just yet. We are breathing each other's breath, waiting, when suddenly I feel the faintest touch of her fingers on my thighs. _Jesus, Mary, Joseph, mother of God, the messiah, Oprah, the president, Barbra, SOMEONE, ANYONE, HELP ME_.

My eyes close tight and I see black. My brows furrow rigid. My lips and chin begin to quiver. Her hands inch up slowly as if playing a game of 'chicken-or-brave' except she's not waiting for me to say brave. Damn well might have the word tattooed on my forehead for she cared. Maybe she became a little more chicken now that she stopped halfway up my dress. Oh, good God, I do not want her to stop. _WHY ARE YOU STOPPING_? I don't want to seem desperate. In fact, that is the very last thing I want her to think I am. I want _her_ to give in to me, but the way she is doing things is making me weak. I need her. I want her.

My head tilts down to look at her. _Aha, found the loophole!_ I arch my back and sink lower causing her hands to inch up just a little bit higher. I can feel heat rush to my center and I get wetter. Not even in my fantasies with boys did I get this hot. My mind isn't holding back from thoughts of her hands on me, in me. I bite my lip hard, still my gaze tearing her apart. She looks astounded. I don't think she's ever seen anyone this worked up before and I feel slightly embarrassed by the whole ordeal, but my longing for her is stronger. She takes a hint. Her hands just need a little more push and she's at my bum. The ball is in my court now. I ram my hips down and, yes, that glorious sound reverberates off the walls and back to my ears; her moan is like a broken record in my head, or is she moaning repeatedly? Either way, it has to be the sexiest thing to ever be interpreted by my auditory glands.

Now that noises have been made, there really isn't a reason to hold back anything. Her hands move up my ass and grab a handful. Oh, yes, it is my turn to release a few notes of my own into her mouth. Without my knowledge, I start to grind my hips onto hers. Once a rhythm is found is when I begin to really deepen the kiss. Our tongues should be given an award (or a gold star even) for best coordination or group effort of flawless paring. Never have I felt such wonderfully soft lips and a perfectly wet tongue. Nothing was overdone. I mean, I haven't kissed that many people at all; there had only been Finn, Noah, Jesse, and that one time I kissed Blaine, but I was completely under the influence and anything could have been heavenly. But this, this was just walking-on-sunshine good.

I take one long grind down making her moan into me and I let go of her lips. Using my hands I maneuver her neck to the side so I can have enough room to kiss down her jaw. There I lay soft, open mouth kisses, simultaneously biting and nipping. _Where did I learn all this? I was never this sensual._ It had to have been causing a number on her because her breathing is jagged, to hardly there at all. I start to get concerned for her well being until I hit a good spot on her neck and realize she's just enjoying what I am doing. Her head falls back onto my hand for support. My other hand wanders onto her back. _Should I, should I?_ I think about putting my hand under her shirt, but I don't know if she'd be comfortable with it. I mean, she should be because her hands were on my bum.

_Oh, what the hell._ And there go my hands. I feel her back tense and there's hesitation in the kiss. I part. Her eyes look deep into mine. _Do you want me to?_ As if to answer my question, she takes a hand from beneath my skirt and guides my own over her breast, not even blinking. If she weren't holding me right now, I would have fallen over. The blood rushes to my face. I start to see specks of flying lights as my fingertips glide over her perfect breasts. I cannot see them, but feeling them is just about the most brilliant thing I've ever felt.

Her mouth hangs open in the shape of a small 'o'. Then I see movement in her lips as she takes in her bottom one to sink her teeth into, all this without her stare leaving mine. I mirror her lip bite when I gently squeeze her breast. A whimper graces my hearing. I slide my hand over the other breast and repeat my actions. Another whimper. She lets go of her lip and I see blood rise from the raw tissue. _Oh, have mercy_. I lean close and my tongue slithers mischievously out my mouth and flicks the blood off her lip to take in.

A low grunt on her behalf disturbs the newly formed silence. Her pupils take over her iris and at that moment I swear she's turned something inhuman. Her hands pull me against her so hard, so fast, my head is spinning. Her lips devour mine hungrily. It's like she's had a taste of something she cannot live without. She's addicted. I kiss her back with just as much need. I keep thinking of how badly I want her hands on private places of my body; how badly I want her lips in dark places; how badly I want her tongue in… _Oh, God, did I just moan that loudly?_

Yes, I did. Her eyes lock onto mine and I feel something moving beneath my skirt once more. _Oh, my God. Oh, my God. No, please tell me you're not…_ Why would I want something to happen so badly and then want to take it back? This is unknown to me, but I shut my eyes tight and I wait. My eyebrows furrow and my mouth hangs ajar. I feel her cheek slide against mine as her mouth nears my ear and I finally hear the first words since she entered the room, "Open your eyes and look at me."

She flicks my earlobe with her tongue before pulling back to make sure I comply. _Jesus, fuck._ I do as I am told. Her face is stern. She's got her head bitch in charge look on. I am almost scared, but not as scared about the proximity of her hand to my center. My eyes flutter and alternate between opening and shutting, not in a blinking manner, but as if I had just woken up to a bright light.

Her hand crept closer and closer. Finally, it was between my legs, but she stops abruptly. She keeps her eyes on mine. I lean my forehead against hers in anticipation of her next move. _If you're going to do it, just do it. Please._ I plead her in my head. I cannot seem to open my mouth to form words, just sharp breaths. I contemplate whether or not to give her the satisfaction of knowing the amount of begging going on in my thoughts. Sadly, she was keen on not moving an inch, therefore making me a very impatient little girl.

I let my eyelids shut. I bite my lip before stating the following word, "Please…"

I can practically hear the smirk growing on her beautiful face. It makes my stomach churn to think she has the advantage. Why did I cave so easily to her touch? _You're like poison, Quinn Fabray._

"Please, what?" She asked in a deep, sultry tone.

_Do not joke with me. You know precisely what._ The voice in my head was definitely more assertive than the one I used aloud. Ugh, the slapping that I was doing in my head to myself could be considered abuse, domestic abuse at that! _Oh, fuck this, I can't stand it anymore._ All my dignity flies out the window when I purposely spread my knees and sink into her hand, "Please, touch me there."

She releases a deep and semi-frightening grunt while she brings her hand up to cause friction. There is an explosion of colors behind my eyelids. There are clouds of purple, red, blue, and some yellow. My head somehow becomes weightless, or heavy, I cannot pick. I let it fall back and I start to make rhythm with her hand. I don't know if I should be embarrassed by how soaked I am, but at this moment in time, I could really care less as long as she keeps doing what she's doing. My inhibitions begin to falter. All kinds of sounds are betraying my mouth and there is nothing I can do to hold them back. My hips grind harder against her hand and her fingers are persistent against my clit.

Abruptly, she removes her hand, but before I could protest, there's no longer a barrier between her fingers and my flesh. My head winds its way latched back onto her forehead. I grab onto the back of her neck and pound my lips onto hers as her fingertips make contact with my clit. I feel like crying. It feels that powerful that I feel the need to burst into tears. I am not, of course, that would scare her away, but _God I want to cry_. I cannot help but hunch over with my lips still attached to hers. It's as if a vacuum sucked out all the air from my lungs, therefore, causing me to cave in and bring space between her body and mine.

I finally let go of her lips to gasp and refill my lungs with much needed oxygen. I grind my hips down onto her hand and _God I want you in me so bad. I want all of you in me._ This feeling is overwhelming. Why have I not felt like this with any other human being? I start to create a tempo with my hips, pressing down against her hand. She was teasing me.

I remembered her celibacy club motto, "all about the teasing and not about the pleasing?" I let escape.

The end of her lip curled into the most devious smirk. _I hate you_. She's going to take her sweet time now. The movement is in circles now; deep, slow, rough circles. My lips keep apart as it's now the only way I can properly take in any air. I begin to get lost in my impure thoughts until something makes me snap back to reality. She let her finger dip in my center to feel just how wet I really am.

"Jesus Christ, Rach—" I cut her off before she can continue. _Oh, this will definitely happen again, I need to hear my name roll off that magical tongue of yours more often… and louder._ She retreats her finger and I whine onto her mouth. She breaks the kiss to move her lips to my ear. "What do you want, Rachel? Tell me what you want."

_Fuck you, how can a name sound so perfect coming from your mouth._ Since when do I curse this much?

"Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you," she hissed into my ear.

I'm whimpering now, "Fuck, Quinn…"

Her fingers press against my clit hard demanding a proper answer from me, but I dig my nails into her hair and pull as I sink my teeth into her neck to keep from screaming. She sucks back air through gritted teeth and then states in a harsh tone, "I asked you a question, Berry. Do not make me drop you and leave you high and dry."

"Mmm, we both know that's not true," I slither my tongue over the fresh bite mark and drag it back to her earlobe, "I'm not the least bit dry."

She moans against my neck. _Rachel: 1, Quinn: 0. _Clearly, Quinn Fabray turns me into somebody completely different. _Fuck it,_ "You wanna know what I want?"

"Yes," she sighs.

"Alright," I decide not to speak at first but to grab the hand already in my underwear and guide her fingers inside me. A shiver runs down my spine. I want her to look at me as she enters me. Her eyes flutter as she feels my walls beneath her fingertips. I give her fingers a tentative squeeze.

"Oh, fuck…" She whispers.

"Precisely what I want," I reply, "get to it."

Right then, her lips attack mine. She creates a slow rhythm, pumping in and out of me, I begin to make sounds that land somewhere between whimpers and groans. I feel her bring her thumb against my clit. Another shiver runs down my spine. My lips and tongue forget what they're doing and our lips part. By now, my eyes are closed and I am trying very hard to concentrate on what she was doing to me.

I lean forward on my knees causing me to be a head taller than her. I run my hands up her neck and into her hair and pull her head back. My eyes open. Our lips brush but our mouths still remain parted. We breathe each other's breath once more. As her hands pump faster and harder my legs begin to quiver. Again, I have to concentrate on not letting my eyes roll back. I want to look into her eyes as she makes me come.

I let out a sharp breath, almost like a scoff. _Good God, you feel so good in me._ My brows furrow. _I'm so close_. I can't help but say it out loud, "I'm so close… Oh, so… close."

I can see her pupils grow with determination as the sound of my words touches her ears. She slows her hand but uses more force. I start to bounce on her fingers, helping her keep speed as my walls began to tighten around her. Her thumb flicking my clit every so often, making me jump with pleasure.

"Jesus… fucking… Christ, Quinn…"

"Yes?"

"Don't…" _Come on, get the words out_, "stop. Don't fucking stop."

She grunts and thrusts in one last time and gravitates her fingers against my …_Oh, my GOD! Fuuuucckkkkkk…_ With each jagged breath my body raised and sunk, riding my orgasm to the fullest. Finally, my body turns to stone. My knuckles are white, my mouth agape. I am flying. I swear. It feels as if the sun is radiating from my center. I am on fire. Her fingers keep causing friction inside me, only pulling my orgasm longer. My hands grasp her face and I hold it in front of mine. I am trying really hard to keep my eyes open. She looks from one eye to the other. She's searching for a further reaction. When she sees that I am not going to do much else but compose myself, I feel her slipping out of me. _Oh, no you don't._ My hand shoots from her face to her wrist. I tighten my grip and, to my surprise, I manage to whisper, "Not yet."

"Ugh, fuck," She sucks back air and licks her lips as she stares at mine.

"That you did," I respond. I teasingly wisp my tongue on her lips and smile. _Who am I when I am with you?_ She can't help but return the smile. Her teeth are perfect. I let go of the grip on her wrist and her fingers slowly, teasingly, exit me. She wipes them off on my underwear and settles her hands back on my ass, bringing me closer.

"God, you have no idea how hot you make me," she confesses. I don't know why she's whispering.

"Well, that's something you don't hear every day," I snap back sarcastically, still a smug smile on my face.

"Oh, yes, please let me shout it from the roof of the school."

"I'll hold you to that."

She rolls her eyes and feeds my lips with her own. I can't help the words that escape my mouth, "Please tell me this is happening again some time soon. I think I owe you a little somethin' somethin'."

She does her infamous eyebrow raise, "Is that so?"

"Mmm, I just want to hear my name fall loudly from those perfect lips."

Before she has a chance to voice her answer, I lean in and silence her. I already know her response. And if it isn't what I want to hear, I'll make it so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** Okay, so this didn't quite turn out the same way as Rachel's POV, only because ...that was Rachel. This is the Quinn sequel so many of you requested. I hope that it meets your standards? Also, I kept an open mind at the end, just in case I get the same response as the last chapter.

This is ten pages of smut in just over 5,000 words. Forgive me for any mistakes, there's only so many times I can read it over!

Enjoy :)

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><p>There she is with that skirt again. <em>Who the hell lied and said it was okay for you to wear a skirt? <em>I start to wonder if she's thinking the same about me with my own dress._ Who lied to me and said I am straight?_ This girl is sure making me want to be a born again lesbian, especially after what happened two weeks ago. _Damn, was it really that long ago?_

After our little rendezvous in the choir room, we tried to sneak out and pretend we didn't lock ourselves in there in the first place. It obviously didn't work out, seeing as we are stuck in detention today. Personally, I think it's stupid that we are here now, two weeks later. All day, _all week_, I kept playing out how it all began in my head, still trying to figure out how exactly I became entranced by the annoying miss know-it-all.

It had been a typical argument, something about singing and nationals and song picking or duets or the other. It was seriously disgusting how the giraffe was still pinning a duet with her, and after the meeting, I waited until we were alone. I had decided that I wanted to give her a piece of my mind.

"Why do you keep letting him drag you around like a puppy? Are you dense?"

"Wait, are you protecting me or insulting me?"

"I was going for the latter, but whatever."

"As generous a gesture as this is on your behalf, I'm going to have to stop you right there. I don't need your help, nor do I need your advice. I can take care of myself, thank you."

I scoff, "yeah, right. I can see it happening now: you drooling over him after he sings with you on that stage at nationals in New York. You are going to get everything you ever wanted, aren't you?"

"That's not true. How dare you assume things about me?"

"I can do whatever the hell I want. I'm the head bitch in this place, if you haven't noticed."

She sighs, "I don't want to argue any further, so, fine, have it your way; but when I make it big out there, don't come begging for my autograph."

"Oh, please, you don't faze me."

"I beg to differ."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Maybe I will."

Then she just stared at me. It was one of those slow motion moments when you realize that something is about to go down. _Well, flawless choice of words there._ And at that moment I really wanted to say something, but I shut my mouth. I guess part of me wanted to know what's in store.

And then she took three steps closer to me.

_Fuck, why am I such an instigator?_ If I hadn't stayed in that room, none of this would be happening. Although, come to think of it, the way she was moving that day, the way she was acting _was_ a bit…different. _Did you intend on this to happen, Ms. Berry?_ Hmm, there's something else to ponder at. In the meantime, I have her looking hotter, my hormones losing their shit, and my eyes curiously falling on certain parts of her body, which they really, _really_ shouldn't. Either way, I am _not_ happy. _And since when am I so weak? I wasn't even intoxicated, for crying out loud! _

Anyway, so we're now in detention, ironically enough we are in the room where the celibacy club gathers for meetings. The desks are facing each other, in the shape of a square, and I am sitting directly across from her. The teacher filling the detention duties for today is an idiot, but he's strict and all he demands is silence. Although right now, I'm not sure if he's sleeping or reading; his head is slumped and there is a book open on the desk. I turn back to face her.

It is kind of flustering, sitting in a room just us, _and that slob_. No noise. No nothing. This is material to write a damn psycho serial killer book. She leans over to her bag to take something out. I follow her hand with my eyes as it reaches her mouth and then rests on the desk as it was before. _What are you doing?_ As I ask myself that, and other things, she locks eyes with me. I am almost terrified when I see her part her delicious lips and reveal what she had put in her mouth: a tic-tac. _You have _got_ to be kidding me._ Nope. She was most definitely not kidding. Son of a bitch is going to seduce me with a tic-tac, isn't she?

Her tongue circles the candy and envelopes it, taking it from my sight. Her lips close and curl into a scheming smile. _I hate you so much right now._ Her tongue peers out and traces her lips with a wink. Something tells me that she's not only winking because of the actions taking place on her face, and I am proven right as I look down beneath the desk.

My eyes melt like butter as they roll up her perfect legs and I forget about the candy in her mouth. She's got her ankles crossed like a proper lady; knees glued, but wait… _Oh, no_. Her right hand has slipped under the desk. Her ankles unhook and part but then stop. Of course, I would be the one to choke aloud. My head jerks to the man sitting on his _throne_ and he glares at me for disrupting him. The blood rushes to my cheeks and I feel myself get hot. His eyes fall back on the book in front of him and I turn back to her with a scowl. _Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you_.

God, she really does not care. Her perfectly smooth calves rub against each other as she runs one leg up the other. I swear my head just got heavier because I lower it and continue to stare (involuntarily, I promise). My breathing shallows. The freaking power she has over me is overwhelming. I am willing myself to look up at her face, but I'm not so sure if that's even a good idea.

_I knew it_. My eyes scour up her face but only to land back down upon her lips. Her tongue slithers over her lips and I can't help but mirror her actions. She lets them part but keeps her tongue lingering on her top lip as the corner of her mouth curls up into an evil, _evil_ smirk once again.

My eyes narrow at her and I mouth out a 'fuck you'. Her eyebrows rise in challenge. My stomach sinks; _what have I done?_ My eyes widen when they fall back again but onto her hand underneath the desk. It starts to tip toe higher and higher. Oh, I thank God that her legs are still closed or I would have fallen over, probably causing me to get a week's worth detention. Her fingers caress her thigh, up and down, her eyes not even moving from me. I can feel her burn holes through my body, but I can't seem to look up from her fingertips. My hand grips the pencil on my desk for moral support.

I suck in air and hold my breath. There's no possible way I can keep quiet for much longer. It's literally taking all my strength to keep from moaning, and apparently, I've resorted to taking out all my sexual frustration on this pencil. My knees are like magnets, rubbing off each other to keep any kind of draft from slipping up _my_ skirt. I don't know why it doesn't occur to me to tease her back right now, but I just concentrate on letting go of the air I am holding captive in my poor little lungs.

Her knees part and my eyes fixate on that sorry excuse for a pair of panties. _I can hardly call that underwear. How is that underwear?_ Why am I contemplating the underwear when she is dragging her fingers up her thigh again? I don't know, maybe to keep myself from withering away. I swear I'm starting to sweat as her hand creeps closer and closer. Her eyes are burning into me again and I am tempted to look at her face once she is about to reach between her thighs.

I do. Not my brightest idea. It takes one lip bite and I know she's touching herself. I shut my eyes so fast and so hard. I don't want to know what happens next, not when I can't open my mouth to release the rock of sexual tension in my chest without a care.

The sudden screech of the chair at the end of the room startles me awake. I sigh with ease; _finally he comes to my rescue._ I almost swallow my relief when he says, "I'm going to be back in 30 minutes, you girls better not do anything stupid while I'm gone."

He eyes us both suspiciously and pivots and walks out the door. _Oh, wow, how very convenient. Asshole._ I really need to cut down on the cursing. I look over to her. I can almost hear the sinister chuckle echoing through her mind. The door clicks shut.

Great. Now, she's got me.

There is a few seconds of silence. I'm not sure if it is considered awkward now that we're actually alone. I'd say this silence is dripping with sexual tension if anything. I grip my pencil again. She sees my gesture and takes it as a sign to break the peace.

"Did you like the show?"

"Show?" I scoff, "You call that a show?" That's right. Keep your dignity.

She frowns, "Oh, please," she shuts her legs, and before standing, "That poor pencil of yours doesn't stand a chance, does it?" She asks sweetly.

Of course, I would stutter, "I-umm."

"You, what?" She coos and turns her back toward me. Her hands grip the edge of the desk to slide that beautiful behind of hers on it and props herself up. Fanning her legs over it, she is now facing me again.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Step one.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

Step two.

"Are you out of your—"

"Mind? No."

Step three.

"N-no?" The timorous tone of my voice is getting ridiculous. I can hardly think straight. _Oh, Jesus,_ no pun intended.

Step four.

"No."

Her palms settle on my desk. I look up at her through wide eyes, practically at the edge of my seat. She smiles with her eyes. _This cannot end well._

My knuckles must have been white, because she places her hand on mine and, it is like pressing an off button; I automatically released the pencil and the breath I seemingly confined along with it.

She smirks. _God, I hate you_. She leans forward just a bit and licks her lips. I lean into her as if she were a magnet and I made of metal. I couldn't help it. I want to figure her out. I want in her head. I want to know what makes her tick. I want to know it all. _What am I thinking? This is Rachel Berry! Rachel Barbra at-least-I-didn't-fall-and-break-my-talent Berry!_

The rest of my body tells my mind to shut up. Indeed, she is _Rachel Berry_, but Lord above me knows just how _good_ Rachel Berry can be. Or at least I'm about to find out by the look she's giving me. How long was I arguing with myself for?

"You alright there?" She whispered onto my lips, her eyes shifting up and down to my lips, then side to side from eye to eye.

Like the sunset, she lowers her body and disappears underneath the desk. I can feel her fingertips dance over my ankles, slowly making their way up my calves, and up to my knees. She stops. I whimper. _Be quiet, Quinn. Be. Quiet._ Her lips begin to graze my kneecaps and I think I might melt. The heat between my legs is getting stronger and I don't know how much longer I can keep my legs closed. I don't want to look weak. I don't want her to know just how fucking bad I want her tongue cleaning up the mess she's making between my legs.

Open-mouth kisses line up my legs alternately. I pick up the pencil.

"Drop it," she growled.

My hand snapped agape and the pencil clinked on the desk, "how the fu—"

"Your hands are either in my hair or gripping the chair. Got it?"

I place my hands on either side of the chair angrily. "Happy?" I huff.

Suddenly, with two sweet strides from underneath my dress toward my knees, she opened my legs and places two equally sweet kisses on opposing sides of my inner thighs.

"Happy?"

I can barely nod. A cracked 'mhm' escapes through my nose. I kick myself in my head. I can picture her face; her 'like taking candy from a baby' face. I don't like that face.

"Well, well, well. Someone was expecting something," she says in a song voice. It might be because I am wearing what I like to call my 'sinful' underwear. Somehow, deep inside, I guess I thought today would be payday.

"Mmm, just for you," I decide to flirt back, stroking her ego as she strokes my thighs.

"Is that so?" she purrs from below the desk. Her hands are creeping up my thighs and I'm beginning to think I might lose control, and fast.

I bite my lip before I whimper out another cracked 'mhm'. Her lips are now dragging openly across my legs. Rachel Berry takes foreplay to another dimension.

"Mmm," she breathes on my skin, "red lace? A little much for a good Christian girl, don't you think?"

"G-good Christian girl?" I stutter. _Damn it, Quinn, keep it together!_ "I don't recall my behavior two weeks ago very Christian. Or have you forgotten?" I try my hardest to flirt back without losing my cool.

"Oh, trust me, babe," She says between open-mouth kisses over the hot skin of my thighs, "I haven't forgotten…"

She sure is working her way up. My breathing becomes sporadic and I tighten my grip on the chair. God, I want her to shove that marvelously talented tongue right in—another whimper escapes my mouth as her fingers hint over the lace somewhere below my bellybutton. I attempt at looking down. I cannot see her face but I can see her bent knees. The thought occurs to me that this is actually happening. I feel like a boy receiving a blowjob, and somehow, the thought is turning me on even more. We are alone again, it hits me, and we are alone in _detention_ for Christ's sake. Rachel Berry and I, Quinn Fabray, are alone in detention and she is on her knees, underneath my dress. She is underneath my dress and I can see her not so man-ish hands lifting the fabric as they glide over the brim of my underwear. I sigh heavily and unintentionally twitch my leg. _Damn it, Quinn, I swear to_—

"Someone is getting impatient," her singsong voice on again.

"Well, if someone were to stop teasing me…"

She removes herself from her comforting shelter and her beady eyes look at me from across my desk. I can't say I'm not slightly frightened.

"Don't even get me started on teasing, Quinn Fabray," she says slowly through narrowed eyes. I gulp. "Or you'll be very, _very_ sorry."

I nod mindlessly. _What the fu—QUINN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ I ignore the scolding voice in my head. My ridiculous, almost-comparable-to-a-13-year-old-boy's, _needs_ must be satisfied a million times more than my dignity needs to stay in place.

That smirk plays on her lips once more, and again, she dips beneath the desk and my head drops back against the chair. _This is happening._ I prepare myself. The grip on the chair tightens and my knuckles hint white. I feel nervous. I feel anxious. I want this right? I—

"Mmm," She purrs from beneath my dress.

My thoughts stop dead in their tracks, but then tumble out my mouth, "Rachel are those your te—Oh, God, those are your teeth," I murmur.

I can feel her glide her teeth over my center over the fabric and I am pretty sure I have stopped breathing. Her hot sticky breath hovers over my wetness and I want more. I want so much more. Her fingers waltz over my thighs and I feel them approach the brim of my underwear again. Slowly she peels it off my legs, one ankle after the next. I can hear her giggle coyly. _What's so funny, Berry?_

I nudge her with my knee and a meek 'sorry' escapes from below. The bottom of my dress pulls up and I see her little face.

She looks embarrassed, "I'm sure I don't have to mention the fact that I've never done this before and I am in hopes that this will be just as good as how you did me two weeks ago."

My heart _almost_ warms at the sight of her blunt humility. _What an oxymoron_. In a way it fills me with confidence. I scoot the chair back enough to give her space to kneel up. I gently wrap my fingers around her neck and bring her up as I bend down, meeting her halfway. I look into her eyes, which are currently bouncing from one of mine to the other. I bring my lips to hers softly.

"You'll be perfect."

She beams. Her smile can actually be blinding, given enough darkness. She nips at my lips one more time and lowers herself back down.

_Have I conquered Rachel Berry? Give her a boost and she's putty in my hands._ Part of me smirks at the idea of yet again having the better hand. The other part of me falls right back to reality as she resumes her actions below the desk. I look down at the hill her head is causing beneath my dress. Curiosity starts to arouse me. I cannot see a thing she is doing under there, but oh, boy, can I feel it.

Her open palms drag over my inner thighs. I can nearly see her eyes sparkle with wonderment through the fabric. She takes what I can only assume are her index and middle fingers and traces a line down my center. I flinch. My hands grip the chair. I feel her hesitant fingers glide over my sides, circling my sex. I flinch. My hands grip the chair.

_Rachel, stop beating around the bush._ Again, flawless choice of words. _I swear if we get cauuu—_

I feel a hint of her hot breath on me and I shut my eyes firmly, my mouth hanging open. The anticipation is absolutely killing me. I want to see what she's doing but I cannot seem to move until she goes first. My chest begins to rise and fall at a quicker pace. This almost feels like a panic attack. _Do something. Do something. DO SOMETHING._ My mind wanders into self-conscious thoughts. _Is she scared? More importantly, is she scared of me? Does she not like what she sees? What's wrong? Is there something wrong with me?_ I will myself to shut up. It feels as if a million years have slowly dragged by, when in fact, it's probably been 10 seconds.

I can feel the heat emanating from her. I think she's moved closer. Then I sense her hands wrap around my outer thighs as if propping herself up. _Okay_… I wait. And then, _yes_, I hear a sigh and the room starts to spin. Once more, I shut my eyes. I cannot open them or else the florescent bulbs above me will somehow turn into elephants and dance around me, Dumbo style. Her tongue, wet, slimy, tender, swift… _God where is there a dictionary when you need one?_ It slid out of that glorious mouth of hers and made contact with my clit. She took a long stride starting from the bottom right to the tip and my breath hitched; my grip tightened; my eyes squeezed.

A moan; a solitary moan is all that seeped through the neatly knitted threads on my floral dress, floated across the air, and landed tenderly on my ears. My head greets the lovely sound by tilting far to the right and rests on my shoulder. Her tongue takes another drag, this time lingering, making me take air in as slowly as she is moving. My shoulders rise with every ounce of air and my eyebrows furrow. I whimper as she reaches my clit once again. _Please, Rachel, please don't tease me._

Just then, I feel them again, her teeth. Without my consent, my hand wanders slowly over my dress and starts to tug. My head comes crashing down as I feel her teeth graze me one more time and I whimper a little more audibly. I pull. She lets her tongue dart and wisp at my clit. I clench. My toes curl. My head rolls to the left and my eyes open slightly. I pull. Her tongue glides over my folds so lightly I can barely feel it, but good God, I do. I hold my breath. I pull.

I can finally see her. Her chocolate locks gracefully lay along her shoulders and her back; her back arched, palms around my outer thighs. I clench. She brings up one hand and spreads me. I take in a deep breath. Then she does something I am not expecting her to do: she looks at me. She _looks_ at me square in the eye. Her lips curl tightly to the right, revealing a terrifying smirk. I only say terrifying because I'm afraid I'll scream at what she'll do next. When Rachel Berry smirks, _something_ is about to happen.

Slow motion. I swear. Her lips part just a bit and she kisses my clit, not one flinch in her gaze. I am butter. I am butter on a hot slice of bread, fresh out of the toaster.

"Fu—"

My head rolls back. She takes a hint. She begins to nibble and suck on my clit while her fingers explore my opening. Teasing. Plain teasing. Fingertips padding my folds, moving carefully, making me tingle all over my body. My mouth hangs open to let out a strong sigh. Her teeth take a hold of my clit again. My hand slithers through her hair and pushes her into me.

"Oh, God, Ra-Rachel," I moan. I'm so very past embarrassment. I—_Sweet Jesus, do that again, do that again_—need her now. "Oh, keep doi…" _you can do it, Quinn_, "ng that, keep that—yes, that."

That, oh so talented tongue is now flicking my clit and her fingers have found an in. I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming, and I only grunt. I'm sure I've drawn blood again. _What am I, a vampire?_ My walls begin to massage her fingers within me and I hear her groan. I tighten my grip on her hair and another moan from her reverberates onto my center.

My head, however light or heavy as it is, rolls down and I scoop up my confidence, "l-look at me."

Without hesitation, her eyes dart to mine. I lick my lips. She returns the gesture on me. My teeth find my bottom lip once more and sink. She mimics my actions but uses my clit instead. I whimper loudly. She sucks hard. I tighten my grip. Her fingers pump harder and deeper.

_I-I'm so_, "s-so close."

I'm so overwhelmed I want to cry. The pleasure is so intense that I don't know what to do with myself. Now both my hands grip those chocolate locks as if holding on to dear life. I can feel my legs begin to quiver. My thoughts race the same track they have all afternoon; _we are alone. We are in detention. We are in the Celibacy Club room! Rachel is on her knees. Rachel Berry is between my legs. There's a _girl_ between my legs!_ Everything is so wrong, so sinful, so _bad_, but oh, so very _good_. The more wrong I think it is the more thrilling it becomes; the more my body reacts to Rachel's doing below me. Her tongue, her teeth, her lips, her fingers; harder, faster, deeper…

"R-Rachel…I-I," I sigh, "Rachel!"

And at that moment, I take my last breath; so to speak_._ I freeze. My legs turn to stone. My whole body turns to stone. I've never felt so alive and dead at the same time. With each stroke of her tongue, I feel like I'm coming undone beneath her touch. The soft kneading of her fingertips on my thighs, the long and lingering caress of her tongue on my folds, cleaning me up, there is no clear-cut way to describe the feeling. Maybe flying would fit it best; yes, I feel as if I am flying.

I am stiff, but loose. I am here, but not here. I am free, but trapped. I am flying, but my feet are on the ground. I feel as if at any moment I could come crashing back down to reality, but I want to hold on to this moment for a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer…

My world is running in slow motion again. I feel like the night I spent with Puckerman, the night I got pregnant; but you know, _better, excellent_. Everything is hazy. My head feels heavy, but the rest of my body is like a batch of noodles. I release a sigh and all the tension disappears. I feel her pull out of me ever so slowly. It causes my entire body to shudder.

I make an effort to look at her. Just as my eyes reach her, she pulls out her fingers from her mouth. _Sweet Jesus on the cross_.

Somehow, finding strength, I grab her by the collar and bring her lips to mine. I tilt my head to the right and part my lips. Her tongue slithers to my own like a magnet. My juices mix in with our saliva and I am in heaven. I hear angels singing. I see the light. My left hand snakes around her neck and brings her closer to me. Our tongues battle and my grip only tightens more, most likely wrinkling her outfit.

We moan onto one another. My nails rake her neck, her nails digging into my bare thighs. I could do this forever. _I could do you forever_. _I could do THAT forever._

She parts the kiss. Our foreheads land against each other. Pants. Groans. Heat. Hearts pounding.

"You should, umm," I begin, "get back over there."

"Mmm, but I want between your legs forever," she whispers.

Did I fall over? I think I've lost my balance.

"I'd rather the next time we do this to be in the comfort of a bed and _not_ in detention."

"Next time?" she breathes, her eyes almost shut.

"Baby, with you, there's always a next time."

Her lips brush mine, "good," I feel her hand reach for something on the floor, "because I'm gonna keep these as collateral."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** _Before reading the following addition to this story, please read this:_ This is slightly different from the past two. It's about 50% shorter than the past two. No names. Hardly _any_ dialogue. This is descriptive. I wanted it to remain purely visual, well you'll know what I mean. Before you start to think that this is OOC, consider that anything we write is technically considered out of character, so just visualize this as it is. Part Three of Somebody Completely Different: Rachel's POV without it being _too_ in her POV.

Grammatical errors aside, let me know what your thoughts are.

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><p>Fingertips.<p>

Ridges of fingerprints dragging across my palm. The sensation is so sharp, yet so light, I can't help but gasp. I don't know where to put myself. My mind is so concentrated on the feel of her above me.

Her finger nails begin dragging across my skin. My chin lifts as if maybe I could see if I did so.

I can't.

Everything is dark.

Everything is black.

Everything is unseen except the explosions of colors behind my eyelids.

The blues and purples, yellows and reds, everything swirling but not mixing together.

People say when one sense is no longer in use, the rest amplify. Truer words have never been spoken.

I can hear _everything_.

I can feel _everything_.

Every sense is at its highest and it is absolutely overwhelming.

I don't know what to do. I cannot move on the outside but my insides are restless. My hands are tied and my eyes are blinded by scarves and my toes curl when her tongue knocks on my lips asking for invitation.

Reluctantly, my lips oblige and let her tongue barge into my mouth. I say reluctantly not because I don't want it, but because I am afraid of the roar my lower stomach will emit and erupt through my body until it falls so easily out my mouth in ripples.

There is something wonderful about losing complete control. There is something thrilling about not knowing. There is something beautiful about trust.

_Do I trust?_

I want to.

I can feel every single one of her tastebuds. I can taste the sweetness of her saliva. Her hot breath mixes with mine and even through air, I cannot tell where I end and she begins. So soft and wet and with intent, her tongue thrives to find the deepest and darkest places past my hungry lips.

The kiss is slow. The kiss is sensual. The kiss is selfish, but it is kind. Her lips befriend mine; they talk, they converse. They exchange numbers and they spend time together. Our lips live in harmony. They brush, against one another, they hug, they make love all on their own.

The kiss gets greedy, it gets angry. Her lips betray mine, they leave them wanting, longing. Her lips tease and ridicule mine. They are evil and they are ruthless. They tag team with her teeth. White jagged pearls sink and envelop my lips, pulling, tugging, scraping, and dragging.

I should be concerned. I should be, but I'm not. Any feeling caused by her is a good feeling no matter how painful it may be. In fact, I want more. I want all of it. I want marks, I want bruises; I want proof that it was real. That it _is_ real. It has happened before, but every time feels like a dream.

_She_ feels like a dream.

I try to remember how everything began... but then I feel a hot sensation on my neck and I feel myself pool between my thighs.

_How did she get there?_

Who cares.

Sharp strokes; vampire teeth; sink; chomp; suck.

I sigh. I think I sigh. Any sound escaping my mouth sounds foreign. I hear it far, far away.

Fingertips again.

Fingertips, oh, so lightly drifting over the ocean that is my skin, leaving waves of goosebumps behind them. From my wrists to my sides, the hairs wake up and stand erect, waiting.

Waiting for _what_, I do not know.

The weight on the bed shifts and I can feel her adjust as her mouth travels lower onto my clavicle.

So warm and inviting, yet mischievous and deceitful, she preys on my skin and bones. Shooting pains course my body landing between my legs and my mouth betrays me. Sounds float from my throat onto the air so sweetly as the rest of me frowns subconsciously.

_Oh, no._

Fingertips again.

Ridges following the curvature of my breasts and hover over the valley in between.

My mind splits in two, three, or maybe four; every bit of me trying to figure out what is happening.

Blood rushes to my center and it feels heavy and sensitive. My fingernails dig into my palms as if that could somehow indicate her that I want to stop being teased. Her teeth, lips, and tongue composing symphonies onto my chest. Damn fingertips kneading, massaging, pinching, stroking my breasts; slowly killing me, really.

My head rolls as do my eyes when a pool of hot liquid spreads over my nipple, and as far as I gather, it disappears into the warm cave of her mouth.

My chest swells with oxygen and it is released with a whimper when she blows air delicately over my soaked nipple making my toes curl and a force come knocking between my thighs.

My other nipple is taken hostage between her index and thumb.

I give up and let go of any control I had, or thought I had, over myself and let my body move freely as it wished; or however much it possibly can given the circumstances.

She takes turns over my breasts, giving them as much attention as she needed to, even despite my pleading groans. Her tongue romancing my nipples, dancing circles around them, luring them into her cave and taking full advantage of them and her teeth showing absolutely no mercy.

I yank at the restraints unintentionally in a fit of pleasure and a foreign sound, in kin to a chuckle, reaches my ears; only to have me reply with a whine and digging of my heels into the mattress.

I guess I have forgotten about where her hands were in between my pleads but I am quickly reminded of just that when I feel a tingle crawl up my calves. Her fingers, soft at first, swiftly cross the sensitive skin behind my knee and I get wetter thinking of them getting closer and closer to where I want them most.

My back arches off the bed and I can feel her other hand slither between the mattress and my skin, outlining the valley straight down to my lower back. Her mouth was no longer at my breasts but moving slowly down my stomach.

I could cry.

My eyes well up with tears. I want to shout _please just touch me, fuck me, SOMETHING_; but there's something more satisfying about secretly _wanting_ to be teased.

"_Make me beg_," I had said to her.

_"Make me want it so bad that I can't even plead." _

And I'm there. I'm at the point where even if I tried to open my mouth, not even a moan could try to escape.

Fingernails scrape my back.

_God, please leave a mark._

Lips caress my stomach and my muscles tighten.

Fingertips swirl across my thighs and they part like the red sea.

Oh, I can hear her smirking. I can feel the heat of her hands hovering over my pelvis. If I could see her, if I knew just what she was doing, I'd say she was observing me. And while this should all be intimidating, given our past, it's not.

Why?

We're bathing in honesty. Our bodies are unclothed, our souls are uncovered. We are completely exposed. There is nowhere to hide. There are no flaws or imperfections, because we are both equals. All things stashed away are presented and all there is to do is observe, hear, taste, smell, _feel_.

She's just looking, wondering, touching, _God_, she's touching.

Fingertips.

Fingertips gingerly testing the waters of my center and I can finally exhale this breath I had been selfishly keeping in my lungs; only to be recaptured when her fingers leave me. My knee is brought close to her face and I feel her cheekbones brush against my hot flesh. Scorching breath, wet lip, slithering tongue, leaving tracks over my inner thigh.

I yank at the scarves unintentionally.

She doesn't care.

The ends of her hair act as feathers, tickling and caressing my thighs as she continues to dip closer and closer to where I want her. Her hands move to my outer thighs and I gasp at her fingernails digging harshly, dragging down to my ass.

And there it is.

The calm before the storm.

The swift wind you feel just before it rains.

The moment of eery silence before an earthquake.

Her mouth has reached just above my sex and I wait. My nails dig into my palms. My chest sinks. My eyes clench. My legs stiffen. I wait.

I wait.

I wait.

I w-

"Say it."

I sigh.

"…_please._"

I am falling. It's dark. It's _been_ dark, but now it's pitch black. It's as if a mighty hand pulled a string holding me by ribs. My back floats off the mattress. My mouth hangs open. My hands yank, seize, and tug frantically.

Her tongue, a brave soldier traveling into the depths of me, exploring, wanting to know me, talk to me, feel me, _be_ me.

In my mind she's a god. She is an entity. In my mind she has 4, 5, 6 arms, 30 fingers, seeking refuge on me, in me, powering me, filling me with light, energy, and _life_. I can feel her everywhere. I can feel her nails on my stomach, on my breasts, calves, thighs, sides. I can feel her tongue lather, lick, flick, caress…

I am losing myself. I am lost. I do not know who or what I am. For all I know, in this moment, we are one. Our spirits kindred, and tied together in this cloud of pleasure.

Fingers.

Fingers waltz into me, expected and awaiting embrace. My insides oblige. They cater to them. They cloak them. They squeeze them and they fill every crevice. They step in and out gently, then forcefully, fast, then slow.

My chest rises and falls in deep long breaths. I want this to last. I want it to stay. I want to feel her inside of me for the rest of my days.

Her teeth tug lightly at my clit, her tongue brushes it softly, and her fingers thrust one last time.

There is a rumble in my body. A shudder travels through my spine. That mighty hand pulls on that string once again and I turn to stone. My everything becomes rigid and I don't hear a sound.

Nothing.

Not a whisper.

Not a laugh, or a cry.

The walls release her, but not without one last embrace as she walks out of me, leaving me with a light kiss; a kiss that makes its way onto my stomach, stroking my flesh, melting away the iceberg my body had become.

Tears disappear from my eyes to the scarf. A spiral of emotions overcomes my body, a hurricane of too many feelings to name or pin point. Her face reaches mine and I can feel a hand on my cheek.

Fingertips.

Ridges caress my lips, which are still ajar. They sheath the tips of her fingers, each one, until her lips take their place.

The kiss is soft. The kiss is innocent. The kiss is just a kiss, but never just a kiss.

I feel her smile onto me and I chuckle.

"What?"

There's a silence, and that's when butterflies erupt in my stomach. And then I feel a release on my wrists. I lower my arms and wrap them around her naked body, not even thinking of taking off my blindfold.

I hold her tight until the next thing I know, there are sparkling hazel eyes staring back at me, and for a brief moment I take a second to thank god my fathers are out of town. _Was she watching me sleep?_

It's dark, but not as dark as the past few hours have been, _has it been that long?_

Her eyes smile, if that's even possible, but her mouth is still. I close my eyes once more, unintentionally, I'm very tired.

And then like feather in the wind, her voice drifts to my ears before my mind settles to sleep.

"You are so beautiful."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's taken so long. I kind of went through a dry spell of absolutely no writing and it sucked. I'm slightly disappointed at how short this is, but I tried something new. This chapter is dedicated to Marley. Thank you for appreciating my work, darling. You are way too talented to even say such things about mine! Anyway, this chapter four in Quinn's perspective, continuing from the morning/afternoon after chapter three. Yes, Berry's parents are still out of town :)

Enjoy!

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><p>She shoved me.<p>

Can you believe that?

She _shoved_ me.

I scoff and narrow my eyes at her as I start to march right back up to where she is standing, but before I know it, she she shoves me again. I can feel my stomach heat up, with anger or arousal, I don't know; maybe both.

Okay, maybe anger. It starts to boil over as she smirks at me, so smug, so proud. _No. Oh, no you don't._

Of course, the second I am one step away from her body, my anger turns to lust and I grab her face forcefully and lock our lips. _I'll show you shoving_. My tongue rams into her mouth so fast, she nearly chokes. In my head, I laugh.

My hands dig into her hair and I pull her head back as I rise on the balls of my feet, towering over her. I thrust her toward me, wrapping my arm behind her back, making sure my nails trickle over her skin with the right amount of force. Her mouth parts and lets out a sigh. I take advantage of her bottom lip and worry it between my teeth, tugging it back. A moan rings throughout the bathroom.

I let go of her abruptly and pivot toward the tub. I twist the knob and let the hot water cascade from the shower head. I turn back to her. Her chest is heaving and her pupils are dilated. I can see her erect nipples through her thin camisole; the only thought on my mind is how I need to get my lips around them.

I walk up to her slowly, my eyes never leaving hers. I close in the gap between us and my fingers begin to play with the bottom of her top. The material slips over my hand and I run my fingers over her stomach, right above the brim of her panties. Her eyes flutter shut, but my gaze never leaves her. I can see her chest rise and fall in deep but slow breaths. My touch leaves her skin and she looks at me once more. My eyes tear through hers. I release a deep sigh. She's so beautiful. _You are so beautiful._

She nods silently, her eyes traveling from one of mine to the other. It almost feels like it's the first time. Slowly but deliberately, she lifts her arms and I remove her top. Her arms fall back gracefully. Her tousled hair is cutely placed upon her forehead. I smile because-well, because I can't help it. I bring my fingers to her forehead and I neatly tuck her hair behind her ear. Her eyes fall behind her lids and a small smile appears on her face. A warm feeling spreads across my abdomen. God, she's just so beautiful.

Her chocolate orbs grace me with their presence once again, but her smile fades suddenly. They give off a puzzled look and I look down and shake my head. It's amazing how one look can vanish all my anger, fear, lust and turn it into something else; or is it just a big melting pot of feelings? I can't distinguish one from the other. I don't ever know what I'm feeling when I'm with her. She makes me feel like I am somebody completely different.

I feel a small digit beneath my chin and it lifts my gaze to hers. We look at one another for a few seconds, all in silence, when she brings my face closer to hers and we share the softest kiss. I don't know if it's the heat of the water or what, but my knees suddenly weaken and I nearly stumble on top of her. She catches me. God, she catches me. How figuratively cheesy.

_I'm really falling for you, aren't I?_

A huge part of me panics instantly, but that small 10% of me that's balanced and level headed manages to calm me down. I thank God for a second. I thank Him because I don't want to miss this. I don't want to miss this one bit.

I know it's a sin. I've been told it's a sin, but-just in the way she's looking at me right now-she's looking at me like I'm the only girl in the world. We're the only ones left on this earth right now, as we stand in this steaming bathroom. And it's almost as if she sees the thoughts race through my head. Her eyes soften, her eyebrows furrow a little with concern, and a small smile tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Hey," she whispers.

As if on automatic, I return her smile, but my eyes glance away from hers. _Don't let them win, Quinn. Don't let them win._

"Look at me for a sec."

I mentally slap myself, hard. _Snap out of it, Quinn!_

"Quinn…" her voice falters a little. _No, Rachel, don't cry. Please don't cry._

I take a deep breath, and release. Finally, my eyes reach hers. They are sparkling with unshed tears and a typhoon of guilt crashes against me. _This is okay. Why am I freaking out?_ _Look, at her, Quinn, just look at her and you'll know._

"You're just so-" I begin. Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth and a moan is barely detained in my throat. The hunger returns, and the fear disappears. My eyes are drawn to that lip and I am at a loss of words. _Words, words, what are words?_ Lips, lips are what I know.

Mindlessly I wrap my hands around her neck and bring her forth. Her teeth let go of her lip just before we mesh together into a seething kiss. Our tongues dance and battle for dominance all at once. I want all of her, and I want her now.

Before I know it, she's shimmied out of her underwear and is now completely naked in front of me. I am suddenly very aware of all the clothing I'm still wearing and quickly take care of that. Once uncovered, she smirks as she walks past me, grabbing my hand, and pulling me toward the bathtub. For a reason unknown to me, I start to blush and I walk the short distance to the running water.

One step, two steps, three, and four; we are now standing in the tub. I have the urge to giggle. I don't know why. I've never done this before, with a guy or a girl. Do we wash each other's hair? Do we talk? Do _I_ have to say something first? Do we just stand in silence? Do we make-out? Do we have sex?

It's kind of hard to keep my eyes open while the water is running so rapidly down my face. It's funny how we watch movies and think that shower scenes are supposed to be sexy, but in reality, they could be slightly awkward. I smile goofily and bow my head to rub my eyes. When I pull back my hair and look up, I find her smiling at me. The water aims right below her chin so she's lucky enough not to be made a fool like me. Of course, I'd be the one to be made a fool. _It's like you can see right through me_.

She takes one long look at me before lifting her fingers to my lips. Her thumbs pad across my lower lip. My eyes doesn't leave hers, which are currently fixated on my mouth. I feel pounding between my legs and a shiver up my spine. _Oh, God, don't just do that. KISS ME!_

Without even the chance to blink, she is on her toes and devouring my lips. A loud moan escapes me and my hands struggle to find refuge. My eyebrows furrow and my eyes squeeze shut. The heat plus the intensity of the kiss is making me lightheaded. I'm guessing she noticed me swaying because her grip on my sides tightens. My hands snake up her front, grazing over her stiff nipples, and lastly, wrapping around her neck. I bring her closer to me, minimizing the gap between us. I can feel her stomach on mine and I cannot help but moan once more.

Her tongue runs over mine making my mouth widen, and letting water seep in and mesh with our saliva. With every stroke of our tongues, I can feel myself get wetter despite the water running. How is it that I cannot get enough of her? She's like a drug. _You are a drug. I need my fix now._

She takes my bottom lip between her teeth and she pulls back hard. I hiss loudly, half caring because it freaking hurts, and half not giving a crap because I want her teeth all over my body. The second her teeth let go of me I take her elbow forcefully and open my eyes to look at her. I can just imagine how black they are, because I can't even tell the difference between lust and anger right now.

She doesn't seem to be phased by it at all. Instead she trails a few sloppy kisses up my neck. She knows that's my weakness. I feel her tongue slither up my neck and nibble on my jaw. My eyes roll back into my head and my hands clasp onto her shoulders. I can hear her smirk growing on her face.

"Mmm, baby," she moans into my ear and I nearly melt, "come on, let me…"

My mind at this point has completely shut down and all I can feel is the ache between my thighs which basically tells me 'do whatever she says, or else'. I feel her hand crawl up my neck and her mouth right by my ear, awaiting my answer. I nod fervently and manage to whisper something in agreement.

She takes my earlobe into her mouth and sinks her teeth into it, pulling it back as she sucked in a breath, and I swear my knees buckle. Her breath is burning my ear as she whispers, "turn around."

I whimper quietly and nod one last time before motioning to do as I am told, but not before she grabs my jaw harshly and brings her lips to mine; her tongue entering my mouth without invitation, not that I'd have a problem, but since I'm on autopilot, it was a surprise. She parts from the seething kiss and nods her head in encouragement. I must admit, I'm a little skeptical about letting her do whatever she wants with me, but then again I did tie her up last night…

The steam in the bathroom is weighing heavy and the hot water is pouring over my back, only to be stopped by her small body behind me. Her fingers grab my hair from the right side of my neck and move it to my left and my head turns back to maybe catch a glimpse of her. I can feel her bare front against my ass and she brings her hands onto my back and lightly pushes me against the cold tile of the bathroom wall. I let out a long sigh when I feel her lips lay soft kisses onto my shoulder blades. Something about not being able to see her do this and just feel was thrilling, yet the mystery of it all is making my stomach churn.

Her hands travel up my spine and back down over my sides, making me shiver. Her mouth runs parted, her teeth grazing my skin, and her tongue peeking out from time to time over my shoulders. My forehead presses against the wall and my arms crawl up the tiles, unknowing where to halt and stay put.

My eyes shut. I can hear the sound of the water splashing on the porcelain rings through the room. Her fingers make way toward my chest, and she slides her open palms over my breasts. My mouth hangs open as I feel her take my nipples between her thumb and index fingers.

"Ugh, fuck," I groan. Her fingers are relentless. They continue to pinch and pull and it's taking all my strength to keep standing and to not bash my head into the wall from all the teasing. _God, I've taught you well._ My back arches, causing my ass to rub against her front once more. I hear a low cry from behind me. I bite my lip and smile at my bit of success. She bows her head onto the middle of my back and pinches my nipples and pulls harder. Yeah, that didn't last long. _Jesus H!_ A loud moan bounces off the walls. I don't know how much longer I can handle this.

Like she read my mind, she finally leaves my breasts and lowers her right hand over my stomach. My eyes squeeze tight, waiting, but no; she stops. _No way. Not happening._ My hand covers hers swiftly, but before I can force it between my thighs, I hear a firm, "let, go."

My chest heaves in an almost sob-like manner. I regretfully let go of her small hand and my arm resumes its prior position. Now, I'm just begging that she doesn't take this to her advantage and just fucks me already because there is no way in hell these knees are going to stand it any longer.

I feel her hand hover over my inner thighs, and her fingers lightly brushing my scorching skin. I take in a deep breath as I feel her moving closer and closer and finally my breath hitches. It's almost like a feather, how faintly she grazes my clit. My mouth falls open again. Fingers ghosting over my clit once more. _Sweet Lord, please, please, please-_

"Oh, fuck me." I whisper, apparently.

"What was that?"

I don't know if I can say it again. I concentrate on the words.

"I said," I take in a breath. _Come on, Quinn_, "fuck, me."

"As you wish."

A swift movement of her knee spreads my legs wider. How I managed to stay erect is beyond me. The pads of her fingertips fall flush against my clit and I release a loud moan that had been trapped in my throat for what felt like forever. Circles, circles, circles. My forehead pushes against the tile and I begin to breathe loudly and heavily. Circles, circles, circles. The water pounds against my neck and small incoherent noises roll off my tongue. Circles, circles, circles.

Promptly, her left hand has dipped between my folds. I scoff slightly as I feel her index finger circle my entrance at the same rhythm as her other fingers working on my clit.

"Oh, wow…"

"Wh-what?" I manage to wonder aloud.

"You're so, _so_ wet…" she sighs in return.

"Ugh, fuck, Rach-"

Sliding. Sliding in and out now and rubbing in circles. My breathing has now become sporadic and I can feel my balance becoming quite weak. I'm close, I know it.

I bite back a moan and she's noticed it. "Let me hear you, baby."

_Fucking hell_. I cry out the faster she slides in and out of me. I want to cry. Everything feels amazing. Her face is pushed against my back, her mouth leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down my spine. Sliding. Sliding faster. Sliding harder.

"Oh, God-I'm s-so close, R-Rachel."

Her fingers slide out while her right hand leaves my clit. I almost sob at the thought of her stopping and leaving me at the verge of everything, until I feel her palm press harshly against my clit and I pound my fist against the wall. The palm of her hand roughly, but so slowly, brushes over my swollen clit and slams three fingers back inside me. I don't even have time to think. Her right hand has crept up my chest and around my neck and as soon as her fingers curl and reach that spot inside me, she massages my neck a little tighter with each press of her fingers inside.

That's it. My head falls back. I try my best to gather one last breath before her hand grabs another hold of my neck and my body stiffens. A rush of blood travels to God knows where. All I feel is a tidal wave just crash against me. My back arches. My legs begin to quiver something fierce. My eyes roll to the back of my head. Tears streak down my face only to be masked by the droplets of water sprinkling from the pouring water on my scalp and I swear I see stars. Ironic, right?

Finally, I feel her grip loosen. It feels as if someone lifted a foot off a water hose and like water returning to its rightful path, so does the oxygen flow from my mouth to my lungs. I gasp and my hands automatically cover my neck. My forehead returns to its resting position against the wall to help me keep some sort of balance. Her left hand slowly exits me and she places it on my hip to hold me steady. I feel the right press lightly on my back along with her forehead. She's hyperventilating as well. It takes a few minutes for us to catch up to our bodies.

Suddenly, a small hand grabs ahold of my elbow, pulls me off the wall, and turns me around. My lids are lazy and with the water running over my face, I can barely see her. She wraps her arms around me and I let my head fall right in the crook of her neck. We stay standing muffled together until I figuratively regain consciousness.

I can finally see her face. She smiles at me and tucks some of my hair behind my ear. I take her palm and kiss it, then push it against my cheek. I smile back.

"Hey," she says gently.

"Hi," I reply.

On the balls of her feet, she rises to give me a kiss on the nose. _How do you follow that with a kiss on the nose? Dear God._

"Can I ask you something?"

"Mhmm," her voice is almost a whisper.

"Where in the world did you learn that little trick?"

She chuckles softly, a smug look appears on her face, "I did a little research."

"Oh, did you, now?"

"Yes, ma'am. Why, did you not enjoy it?" That eyebrow raise was done in such a Fabray-esque manner. _Jesus, I really have taught you well._

"What part of how hard I just came gave you that idea?"

Her mouth drops open at my bluntness. I laugh at how cute she is being right now.

"What? I'm only stating the obvious, Rachel."

She shrugs and flips back her hair with her hand, so proud of herself. I roll my eyes and take her lips with my own. I leave a lingering kiss, followed by another, and another.

"I think I-" My eyes widen and I stop myself. I kick myself for even attempting to think aloud, especially _those_ words.

Her brows furrow, revealing a puzzled look, "what, baby?"

I sigh deeply, smiling a little, and decide to leave it at, "I just want you to hold me for a while."

Maybe next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: WOW, okay, so I know that this took a million years and for that I apologize HEAVILY. I just didn't know whether I should continue this with relevance or just move on to write other one shots that had absolutely nothing to do with this saga, which I did end up doing anyway cause I'm a jerk. WELP! So glad that Luckypressure decided to ruin my life with the Jacket drawing because it was that very piece that inspired me today. Aly (lellolamb) also enabled this ridiculousness, as well as Skywarrior108's prompt of: _Quinn teasing the hell out of Rachel in her new Cheerios uniform. It ends in them dry humping in the Cheerios locker room (possibly in the shower). ^_^_ **

**I also dedicate this to Marley and PC because reasons.**

**ENJOY?**

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><p>Her hips swayed effortlessly from side to side along the tempo. Instantly, I felt my mouth water, as did my eyes. The pounding between my legs hadn't ceased since I woke up from yet <em>another<em> sex dream. Can you believe that? I mean, I was the first to mention that girls want sex just as much as boys do, but this is absurd. We've been 'hooking up' for the past month, on and off, whenever it pleased us. How is it possible that my body craves her this much?

My mind cannot possibly think it can control these urges, which absolutely upsets me. I should be able to pretend I'm alright in the least, right? My career depends on it! I am an exceptionally great actress, and no one can take that away from me. Except for one certain blonde in a cheerleading uniform, dancing and singing centre stage in the choir room. It is totally and completely unfair!

God, those legs.

_Stop it! Stop that right now!_

Oh, but she's so delicious.

_RACHEL!_

Alright, concentrate on something else. Concentrate on her voice. Okay, perhaps that was not a good idea. She's surely been practicing this number because she's precisely on key, pitch, and harmony. Nothing sharp, nor flat, it is just…perfect. Oh, Barbra, I'm in trouble.

Her hazel eyes sparkle when they look my way. Maybe I'm imagining things. But, wow. They look like diamonds in sunlight. Her lips curl up at the end in that awfully devious smirk she sometimes pulls. Her tongue moves swiftly behind her lips and teeth and for a second my mind drowns in memories of them on my flesh, dragging and tugging and biting and licking and…

She twirls. She twirls across the floor and her skirt waves at me hello. I _almost_ wave back in a state of trance, but thank God I didn't. That would've just been a disaster. Her butt looks really darn good in those spanks. _Oh, my…_ I cross my legs and pull at the pleats of my own skirt in an attempt to ignore the throbbing.

_You can do this, Rachel._ And since when do I need to pep talk myself? I shake my head. She is now biting her bottom lip and I feel myself pool. Somehow I have a feeling that this is the hundredth pair of underwear I'm going to have to throw out. She so owes me a shopping trip to Victoria's Secret. Though, the way I'm beginning to plan that out, it won't be much help, at all.

Everything I see just puts my mind in the gutter. Each and all surfaces are a new place to lay her. Things like scarves are thought of to tie her or have her tie me again. _That dress is something she would like seen on me. Or off me. Wearing my hair down today will be easier to tame if we decide to find our way to a janitor's closet._ It's like being on the look out for slushies again, except it's hands up my skirt or down my pants, and, God, _please_ don't let me be so loud this time.

Before any assumptions are made, I affirm that I am by far not complaining. This is the most excitement I've gotten in the past month since Funny Girl was on AMC 5 weeks and 2 days ago. Silly to think about that now, actually, because I do own the film in VHS, DVD, _and_ Blu-Ray, but every chance I get, the popcorn is readily at a sensible reaching spot for someone my size in the kitchen. Anyway, complaining? _Me_? No. Absolutely not. But this is not to say that I enjoy being tortured in this new and erotic way-_Oh, the dip of her back there_-

I look to my right and notice Tina urgently averting her eyes. A rush of heat flushes my face and I side-eye the still smirking blonde. Suddenly, I feel as if everyone knows that I can hardly control myself. Anger begins to bubble and my little body just does not know how to handle so much at once. As if by miracle, the music finally ends with a sultry note from you-know-who, and that's it! I've had it! In a typical diva storm off, I ball my fists, stand erect, and stomp my way out the door.

Shortly after I exit, the Glee club was dismissed. I can hear the distant pattering of my fellow members walk off in the opposite direction, however, that of a pair of tennis shoes has become increasingly louder behind me. I smile internally. I really just want to get her alone.

To talk.

With my hands.

_RACHEL!_

Oh, my God, shut UP. I can't ignore this feeling any longer. My hands are starting to shake a bit from frustration. I need to calm down. Breathe. Think of the sound of your shoes against the floor. Think of open fields. Think of bunnies! Okay, no, not bunnies. Think of-_the locker room_.

In plain sight, like a message from the heavens, I could have sworn I saw a beaming light shine upon the girl's locker room sign. It's a Friday afternoon and no one is within a mile of this place. It is proper to assume that Coach Sylvester has called it a day since Quinn, Santana, _and_ Brittany were all at Glee club after school, so the coast is most certainly clear. _Jackpot_.

I shove the door ajar and step inside, moving over to the right and accidentally slamming my head against the tile. _OUCH_. Whatever, that doesn't hurt nearly as much as the ache I'm feeling between my legs. It's like an anvil is hanging from my center and pulling to a magnet on the floor. It's not the most pleasant feeling in the world, to be quite frank. Now, what is taking her so long!

"Rachel, are you alr-"

The sound of the door initially scared the wits out of me, but somehow I was able to grab her by the properly primed sleeves of her uniform and switch positions. In a flash, my tongue was halfway down her throat and she'd released a low groan. My hands snake behind her neck and pull her unbelievably closer. I have no idea how much nearer I plan to get to her without having us actually morph into one person, but I sure as hell am trying.

Our teeth clank in the messy kiss, but, God, I cannot possibly care less. The taste of her mouth is something I simply can never get enough of. My breathing had at one point completely lost its cool. I sound like a panting dog. And is that really what I'm concentrating on when her hands are firmly planted on my butt? Exactly.

A squeeze there and I break the kiss for a light gasp and my ears catch the faint giggle that rolled off her lips. I can't help myself, "God, I've missed you." I dive in full force and don't even give her a chance to reciprocate the feeling. Which is fine, because her tongue slithers against mine and they fight for who's boss. She wins this time. I'm basically butter right now. Another squeeze. Another moan.

She breaks the kiss, "I've missed you," that is a much lower tone than I expected to hear. What was I even expecting? I don't know, but her tongue just flicked my ear and I sigh heavily against her jaw. Some kind of incoherent agreement to her statement happens to be expressed on my behalf even though I initiated the comment. Whatever, her teeth are now tugging at my earlobe and my nails dig into her uniform. Her lips moves down my neck in open-mouthed, elaborate kisses and my chest feels as if it'll fall off of me very soon. I try to shift and I get a sense of just how painfully soaked I am.

"Oh, my God."

Teeth rake over my skin and, _my, oh my_, nibbling on my collarbone. "What?"

"Oh, Quinn," I'm moaning now, there's no need to deny it, "I'm fu-I'm dripping."

Her forehead drops to my shoulder as I hear her whisper some obscenity. Her knee knocks mine apart and climbs up to feel me through my underwear. "Sweet, Jesus, Rachel." My head lulls back and I gasp at the contact. _There is no way_. A panic settles in my stomach, like I'll never rid this intense need for satisfaction. My actions suddenly become desperate.

"Quinn, I need you," I breathe against her. I hear her groan, pulling me closer. _Please, Quinn, please._ Her thigh is still positioned between my legs. My knee rises, holding me up on the wall, and I lean into her. The shift causes marvelous friction and she whispers, "rock against me," she grabs my hips and begins to rotate them forward and back. _Yes, oh my_-the friction again-_God, this feels amazing._

I begin to motion my hips, the material of my panties rubbing against my clit, the sound of me spreading over her was embarrassingly audible. She didn't seem to care as she was too busy unbuttoning my blouse and had somehow magically undone my bra. My chest now exposed and her lips were there to cover every inch. Her hands roam across my back, holding me up as I rock onto her slowly.

I hold onto her for dear life. _This feels... so good_. All of my energy being focused on keeping me as close to her as possible. I needed her heat within reach. I wanted her skin against mine. I craved her lips on my own. Teeth are now tugging at my nipple and just when I thought my underwear couldn't take anymore-"Oh, God, Quinn!"

"Come on, baby," she purrs, "don't hold back."

I sink roughly onto her thigh. _Oh, right there. Yeah, right there_. If I pull any harder on her uniform, I'm afraid I'll turn into the hulk and rip it off her. That really wouldn't be a good idea since she _just_ got it back. Instead, my right hand held refuge behind her neck and my left stamped on the tile next to her head. She leans toward me and catches my lips. The kiss is smooth. It feels almost like a puzzle piece; our lips match perfectly, and even when our lips part and we don't pull away, the feeling of standing on the edge of a very tall building bottles up in our stomachs and we wait until the second we reconnect. Instantly, we take in deep breaths from our noses and 'mmm' a couple of times here and there. The sound of our lips smacking seems to ring in our ears, but who _cares_ when it feels so good. Her grip around my back tightens. I finally come to acknowledge the fact that I stopped moving my hips when the throbbing intensified.

Slowly, I regain motion. My hips roll forward at a steady pace, building back what I'd lost track of. Her lips travel down my neck again. Painfully sluggish kisses that make my breath hitch. Once again, she's at my collarbones, sucking away. I'm sure to bruise, so that'll be fun to cover up later. Before I know it, her teeth are latched onto my right nipple and I feel a sharp tingle between my legs, making me drag along her thigh a bit harder. A low moan bubbles up my throat; my hand now deeply interwoven in her blonde ponytail. Another bite. Another stifled moan.

"I said: don't hold back, Rachel," she growled. My head falls back when I feel her tug at my other nipple, far more roughly than she did before. I hiss loudly and tighten my grip of her hair.

"Fuck."

She lays a soft kiss on the erect nub as an apology, I'm guessing. God, it doesn't even matter because the harder she does it the more I want it. "Bite them again," I sigh. I cannot tell you what's possessed me to say such a thing, but my body knows what it wants, and it wants that delicious pain again. She didn't think to hesitate and kindly (or not so kindly) obliged. Teeth bit down gently at first, pulling back until it slipped from between them. Then with full lips, she sucked on my breast aggressively causing me to cry out, "fuck, Quinn!"

She repeated her actions upon my left breast as my hips began to pick up pace. All kinds of moans escaped me, but I no longer care. I have completely drenched through my underwear and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady with such a messy situation, but I am so close that I need to get off, and I need to get off _now_. I am now writhing against her thigh at such a pace that I can't help but begin to pant again. Like she read my mind, Quinn's lips attacked mine; her tongue lashing at my own, slippery but demanding. A mixture of whining and whimpering and moaning fill the walls of the locker room, neither of us knowing or caring from who's throat they were being expelled.

She breaks the kiss, "say my name, Rachel. I want you to say it."

I can hardly think at all. Everything in my brain is like a flipped over game of scrabble. There are letters and words that make absolutely no sense whatsoever. My eyebrows furrow and my hands grip whatever is within reach. My bottom lip is suddenly caught between my teeth before I release it to try and get any words out of my system. But then that feeling comes rushing in; the same one from the first time we did it, that of the elevator falling just a little bit too fast. There's a tingle, like I'm going to sneeze, and my body fills with anticipation. I'm at the edge of a cliff and I am about to jump. There's no ground to fall back on, there's no support except for her grasp on my waist. I arch my back and grind hard against her one more time, and, "Quinn!"

There it is, suspended in midair, the free fall feeling and I want to cry from how incredibly frightening and terribly satisfying it is. My entire body tightens; my breath hitches; my legs quiver; my back twitches and I come hard, so freaking hard. Instantly, I feel like a noodle. My heel drops to the floor and she grips me twice as hard. Her lips are softly caressing my neck as my head is still lulled back. My vision clears from the black with random sparks of color and my breathing takes a good five minutes to return to normal. It's painful to bring my eyes back to hers, but as soon as I do, I melt within the ocean of honey.

She holds me close with a smirk on her face. My eyelids droop. I can't help it, I'm exhausted. She chuckles at me, then slides her tongue over my lips. We kiss once. Twice. Three times. Her tongue slithers up against mine, and I massage it back tenderly. She moans softly between kisses. And, God, I think I could love her. And, it really scares me. But this moment is so perfect. No words. Just being.

Just being.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** For Aly (lellolamb) and PC ;D

Also, to make Marley smile.

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><p>Her parents aren't home again. I have her pinned against the wall. She can barely move. Her wrists are restrained by my hands and she's looking up. At least she's facing that way. Her eyes are shut tight.<p>

My tongue swiftly runs up her neck. She whimpers. God, it's the sexiest thing. I'm sure I can never ever get tired of hearing it.

My teeth follow; raking across her skin, finally stopping to nip at her pulse. She sighs. "Quinn?"

"What, Rachel?" I growl against her ear. I flick her earlobe with my tongue before roughly taking it between my teeth and pulling back making her gasp loudly. She doesn't respond.

My hips ram into hers causing her head to roll onto my shoulder. Her moan echoes off the walls of her room.

"Rachel," I try again teasingly.

"Yes?" She replies breathlessly.

I place soft kisses across her jaw, "You were saying?"

"This isn't fair."

My brow arches, "In what universe is my mouth on your body not fair?"

I almost laugh because I sound like Santana, but _come on_. My lips tease hers. They hover over her parted lips and her brows knit in frustration.

"Last time, you-"

I cut her off with my mouth. A small noise escapes her. Probably in protest, but I don't care. My tongue glides over her bottom lip and she obliges. Our tongues swirl together. Fuck, the taste of her mouth is heaven.

She jerks her head to the side. "But, it's your turn."

I smile. My hands release her wrists. Her arms fall to her sides and then she rests her hands on my hips. She thinks she's won.

How cute.

My head tilts to the side as I bring my fingers to her face. I caress her cheek and she leans in to kiss me, but I shake my head very slowly.

"No, Rachel," I say, sweetly. Her head follows mine, brows furrowed again.

"No?"

A smirk plays across my lips. I lean closely, my cheek brushes hers. Simultaneously, my hand travels up her inner thigh. Her breath hitches.

"I want to fuck you again." I whisper into her ear as my middle finger ghosts over her center, over her panties.

"_Fuck_."

"Yes."

She wraps her fingers around my neck and pulls me into a searing kiss. I part first for a much needed gasp for air. Jesus Christ, she can be aggressive. This isn't going to work the way I want it to if I don't keep control. She tries to recapture my lips, but instead I grab her by the hands and lead her to the bed. In some elaborate, yet sort of romantic gesture, I twirl her so that her back is facing the bed.

She carefully sits down and stares up at me. Her eyes _shine_. Lashes bat, her lids concealing the chocolate irises from me. I almost flinch at how much it saddens me to not be able to look at her in the eye.

I find that the only way to take the sadness away is for me to close my eyes as well, so I lean down and press my lips onto hers softly. The kiss quickly deepens. I lift my knee, placing it between her legs. She takes this as a signal to move back. She parts from me, only to kiss me again, briefly, before sliding her body back onto the mattress.

I slip off my shoes. I've got no idea when her flats had come off. Most probably some time between stepping into her house and pinning her behind her door. She waits against the headboard for me. I crawl over to her. Her curls rest over her shoulders, they rise along with her chest as her breathing becomes less and less controlled. Her mouth is slightly open; her pink tongue peeks from behind her teeth.

_You are so fucking attractive._

My knees are on either side of her hips. I reach the hem of her shirt and motion to pull it over her head. Her bra is cream colored and lacy. She doesn't say a word.

The sound of the zipper of her skirt coming undone is loud in the silent room, but she doesn't take her eyes off me. Her panties match her bra. Lace again. I have to bite my lip to keep the whimpers from spilling out.

I trailed my fingertips over her tanned skin. She's so soft. It's almost like the first time I ever touched her. Her stomach quivered a bit beneath my touch. I can now hear her breathing. But I'm enthralled. Her skin is amazing.

I lean down moving my knees back, and place a kiss just underneath her navel. Immediately, I feel her fingers lost in my hair. I continue to drag my lips over her stomach. Everything feels so erotic. She sighs shakily. I can't say I'm not surprised at the amount of patience Rachel is showing right now.

My lips run across the brim of her underwear as my fingers curl around the sides of the fabric, pulling them down steadily. I toss them to the side and continue my slow torture down her inner thigh, completely avoiding the place on which she wants my utmost attention.

I lay open mouthed kisses over her shivering muscles, smiling to myself, absolutely indulging in teasing Rachel. My nails begin to rake over her skin. I've not even started and she's got the blankets in white knuckles.

I get to her knees and her legs are shaking. I finally get to look at her and she's got sweat gathered at the top of her forehead. Her eyes are barely visible under heavy lids and her chest is rising at falling at such rapid speed.

I really cannot help the groan that escapes my lips. My whole body feels feverish. I remove my cheerios top and unzip my skirt. Soon enough, I'm nearly as naked as Rachel is. I need my body against hers. I need to feel her skin against my skin.

I hover over her and my thumb grazes her lips. They part, and she lets her tongue brush my fingertip. I just can't keep my distance anymore. I catch her mouth and we fall into a deep kiss. Our hands exploring each other's bodies as if they've never been there before. The clasp of her bra is undone and then her nipple is rolled between my fingers. She moans against me.

I hold her close to me, unbelievably close. Almost as if, were we even the least bit apart, it'd be unacceptable. She palms my ass and rakes her nails over it, grabbing it. Showing no mercy.

I growl over her jaw, kissing her sloppily, not caring. Not caring.

My right hand finds her center. Fingers glide over wet folds and whimpers reverberate off bedroom walls. My index toys with her opening and she cries.

"Tell me you want it," I say.

She gasps and moans.

"Tell me, Rachel," my teeth pull at her erect nipple.

"Please, Quinn," she begs. _Fuck_, it's so hot. "Please."

I waste absolutely no time. Two fingers plunge into her and she arches into my palm. I kiss my way to her other nipple, teasing her as I pump my fingers in a horribly slow but rough pace. I flick the nub and take it between my teeth. She cries out again.

"Harder."

Fingers in deep and out, faster and harder, as requested. My thumb randomly pressing against her clit to keep her on the edge. Keeping her on the brim, but never the push to send her over.

Kissing. Kissing. Kissing. My lips never leave a piece of her skin untouched. Teeth scrape over her sternum, down to the dip between her ribcage. She pants uncontrollably. She's so close.

"Q-Quinn," her voice is frantic and I feel the muscles in my arms burn the faster I pump my fingers, "Quinn, I love-"

The blood drains from my face and I feel cold and hot at the same time. I can't stop what I'm doing now. That would be horrific. My fingers keep going.

"Rachel," I cut her off. "Don't."

I move up, closer to her. Our chests crash with each breath. Her fingers gripping my shoulders tightly.

"_Fuck!_" Her head abruptly falls back, her nails, however, still digging deep into my skin. My left hand grips the back of her neck and I bring my mouth closer to her ear. She needs to shut the fuck up.

"But, I fucking-I love-"

My heart picks up and it's racing completely out of control. I feel on the verge of a panic attack. My fingers curl up and rub against her walls hard. Rachel doesn't finish what she was going to say, even though I already know.

I wish I didn't.

She rides her orgasm and falls limply back on the bed. Her back no longer arched. Her chest relaxing. All the while, I can't seem to catch up with myself.

I break apart from her and sit back on my legs. For the first time since we've started this whole…_exchange_, I feel as naked as I physically appear. I stare at her and she's lying there, beautiful as ever. Her hair sprawled over the pillow and her eyes are shut. Her mouth is barely ajar. She looks… magical.

_'I love you.'_

_That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?_

The room suddenly feels 10 times smaller. My heart is pounding so loud, it rings throughout my head. _I need to get out of here._

I reach for my underwear and dress lightning fast. I feel my face distort when I hear the ruffling of the sheets. Rachel's sitting up. Confused.

"Quinn, I'm-I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't, Rachel."

Tears are stinging my eyes and I feel an intense amount of anger bubble deep in my stomach. She can't just say that. _You can't just say that!_

"Please, don't leave, Quinn," her voice pierces through me like a sharp blade. It hurts. It physically _hurts_.

"Don't leave me."

But it's too late. I don't hear the last few words. I'm already out the front door.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N (1):** All of the thanks to Katie (thefrozentofu) and Nikki (thecanadiasian) who, through their individual efforts, have now allowed me to become a member of Ao3 just in case something were to happen to my account here on FF.

**A/N (2):** I am parisoriginal on Ao3 as well! I'll be adding my stories tonight/tomorrow.

**A/N (3):** This is in dedication to those two special ladies and Conor (mcclane on tumblr now) whose birthday in a few hours. And, of course, those who've stuck around reading my work and reviewing and all that great stuff cause you all rock!

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><p>It's been a just over two weeks since she walked out on me. It feels strange. My first instinct was to cry. I was surging with all kinds of emotion that the tears just spilled out.<p>

We're not even together.

She's not my girlfriend.

We've just been sleeping together.

I am stuck between feeling like an idiot for attempting to say how I felt and feeling like she deserved to know.

She walks the halls like I don't exist. Not a glance, not a smile, or even a grimace. I'm just invisible.

And I can't decide which is worse.

Inside I wish she'd order a slushie thrown at me or something. Anything to know I'm still on her mind.

It's not 'til lunch that I finally find her alone. Totally on accident, too. I promise.

I routinely go to the choir room during lunch. It's practically my home away from home. Everyone knows that. And as I walk down the hall feeling absolutely dejected, the last person I expected to run into was Quinn. _Hoped_ to run into, maybe. But I never thought I'd find her there.

Sitting on the piano bench.

"It's hard to believe this is where it all began, isn't it?" I startle her. She looks like she feels she should've known better than to be in the choir room. "It seems like forever ago, you had me at the mercy of your hand."

She almost rolls her hazel eyes. I frown. It upsets me a little bit, I can't lie.

"What are you doing here?" She asks. I haven't heard her voice in what feels like a million years. I'm torn between joy and sadness.

"I come here during lunch to practice almost every day." I say it as if it's common knowledge. Which it is! "To be honest, I'm surprised to see you here."

There is dead silence and it is tearing me apart. The way she can sit there and take complete control of me without even saying a word is terribly irritating. At the same time I don't want to dismiss her.

_If at first you don't succeed..._

"I'm surprised to see you at all."

Nothing. She is staring at nothing. Her chest is rising and falling at an even pace and her lashes bat open and close. No other movement.

_You get up and try again._

"Why'd you leave?"

"Why'd you say it?" She snaps back at me.

_Ah, there it is._

"You can't ask me that, Quinn. I don't have an answer. I can, however, confess that I don't regret it."

"Hmm. Well."

Her lack of expression suddenly makes me very nervous. My breath hitches a little and a small noise escapes. "_Well_, I don't expect you to feel the same. I never have." _That's a lie_. "M-maybe someday," I correct myself.

There is a falter in her attempt to stay neutral and I can hear angels sing. This is my shot at calming the waters. "Before you say anything else, hear me out," I say, albeit shakily. I clear my throat in hopes to get rid of it. She stares at me. No, she glares.

"You make me feel things. And maybe...maybe I was wrong to jump the gun and scare you off like that. Maybe I should have worded it better, because-" I pause. _Think Quinn Fabray. Speak her language._ I grip the back of a chair to keep from shaking, "-because, I agree that love is a very strong word; a very sacred word. But I'm not going to sit there and pretend like how I feel when I'm with you isn't _something_."

Her eyes glaze with tears as she looks away. And even though it's painful to watch her be upset, suddenly I feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. The lightness is almost alarming, like I might faint. I release a deep, quivering breath. My lashes are soaked. I never realized I was crying.

My fingers let go of the chair and I find myself walking toward her. I'm not entirely sure it's a good idea to be approaching her during such a heavy conversation, but I feel an intense need to be close to her.

We're magnets.

I sit. She doesn't move away.

Her fingers lie gingerly over the piano keys, not pressing enough to play a note. I take her hand in mine. She flinches, but leaves it.

"I'm scared," she whispers after a few beats of silence.

Her hazel eyes are bright with unshed tears. Her lashes bat them away. She looks down at our hands, briefly, before those gorgeous eyes land on me.

"Me too," I respond.

Sometimes, her gaze is so intense that my heart races and slows all at once. She tears right through me, peeling away all of me to the core. She's always had that ability, to make me feel completely see-through; like I cannot hide a single thing.

And I know she can see how frightened I truly am.

I feel my hand pulled forward. I shift closer and then feel her other hand on my cheek. I sigh at the contact. I've missed her.

"I've missed you."

She leans in hesitantly, and I meet her halfway. Our lips brush shortly. I hear a small whimper and I smile against her. _I've been on your mind all along, haven't I?_ I motion to pull away, but she drags me in again.

Her tongue glides over my bottom lip and it's like having dessert before dinner. My lips part and her tongue enters my mouth. It slips onto mine and I sigh. There's an all too familiar tingle between my thighs and, _God, I've missed you_.

It feels like years have rolled past since she has last touched me in this way. Sitting up on my bed, the moment she walked away, I thought it over. Everything. My mind ran with thoughts as I cried for an hour, half of me completely disheveled and the other half in hopes she'd come around.

Her left hand sinks between my thighs and I flinch. _Yes. Please._ _I want you so bad. I want you so, so bad_. She squeezes my inner thigh, raking her nails across my skin, not caring whether or not it might hurt me. It doesn't. It only feeds my craving.

Quinn's mouth latches onto my jaw line and then down my neck as she lets her fingers explore beneath my skirt to a familiar territory. I don't have to know how soaked I am, her moaning into the crevice of my neck is enough. I gasp softly as she begins to circle the pads of her fingertips slowly over my clit. The sensation is electric. My body is on fire.

My lips part and I can no longer breathe through my nose. Every breath comes out in small, shuddering pants as she works me up to my core. I've got a leg placed firmly over her thighs, giving her even more access. I wind it tightly under her calf.

It suddenly dawns on me that this is very dangerous. We could get caught at any moment. _But when has that ever stopped us? Keep going. Keep going._ The thrill shoots through my veins and I bite my lip hard to keep from screaming.

She's pumping two digits now. My cheek brushes against her ear. She's burning hot and panting onto my collarbone. At times I can feel her tongue brush across it. My left hand grips the back of her collar; the other is holding me steady at the side of the piano.

"Harder," I manage to whimper shakily, my knees just as unstable as my voice. I'm so close. _So close._

She complies. The palm of her hand striking me as her fingers search deeper into me, mercilessly. Each pump causing a wave of arousal so high, I can hardly stand to bear it. As I start to feel my walls close in on her fingers, her free hand winds into my hair and pulls back hard.

My breath hitches. I hear her say huskily into my ear, "Come for me, Rachel."

The sensation takes over my body, as it usually does, but this time is so powerful, my right hand balls up in a fist and slams onto the piano keys. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ The loud, sharp notes couldn't have distracted me in the least. Her fingers curl firmly inside of me while her thumb presses unyieldingly against my clit.

The orgasm pounds through me, stiffening my muscles and hardly allowing me to intake oxygen. It ripples through my veins as the blood surges at a lightning speed. My head begins to ache. My left hand finally releases her top. It's all wrinkly now. Whatever.

My forehead leans on hers and I keep my eyes shut, just as they have been for however long now. I have been breathing so heavily for what feels like a lifetime. I am so lightheaded I feel like I could pass out any second, but her arm holds me still. I take her wrist and remove her hand from beneath my skirt. I finally open my eyes to find that the hazel has nearly disappeared into her blown pupils. My legs shut together and my nose scrunches at the soreness I am already starting to feel.

My hands cup her face and I gently stroke her gorgeous cheekbones before briefly bringing our lips together. I want to kiss her again, _kiss her forever_; but I simply brush a thumb over her bottom lip and say, "Come over this weekend."

Her gaze catches the ground for a second and I take it as my sign to leave. As soon as my grip on her face loosens, she looks back up at me, but I'm already smoothing out the pleats of my skirt and motioning to get up on my feet. I walk around the bench and lean down to pick up my bag.

I take one step forward and her fingers wrap around my wrist. I look back in reflex, her golden eyes stare into mine. She's so beautiful, it makes my heart wrench.

"Alright." She says it so quietly.

I exit the choir room.


	8. Chapter 8a

an (1): ugh talk about being so busy you can't breathe! I've had 12 hr work days of hell, but I've survived! Here's a treat from me to you, enjoy.

an (2): this is for marley because it was her birthday not too long ago and I'm a bad friend and didn't write her something sooner. I love you!

an (3): this is mild, I know, and I would apologize for it, but lol nope! and, yes, there's a part 2 coming your way, chillax.

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><p>It's unlocked. I let the knob untwist in my hand. The door swings ajar and I peer in. It's quiet. I frown for a second; the thought that perhaps no one is home or that something is wrong crosses my mind briefly. But her fathers might just not be home.<p>

I always hated this hallway. It's like out of a movie, a horror film. A horror film in which you stand at one end and then begin to run but it only stretches, making you think you will never get to the end of it and the killer is right on your tail. God, it's fucking scary. I hear a small noise and I nearly jump out of my skin. My eyes open wide and I sprint up to the steps.

I shake my head because I'm being an idiot, but the eery silence is just _haunting_. I wince and continue climbing the steps to the second floor. There are baby pictures of Rachel with her dads all over the walls as I bring each foot onto the next level. I'm sure I've noticed them at some point being over at this house so many times, but I'd never really looked.

_Fuck, you're the cutest thing_.

They make me both sad and happy and scared all at once. My stomach churns a little and my face grimaces at the feeling. She's a baby in an off-white blanket with gold stars printed on it. Her fathers smile softly in the photograph. Then she's about two and walking with a microphone glued to her hand. Then she's four in tap shoes and a bright red outfit, hair pulled up in a tight bun and smiling like it's the greatest day on earth. Rachel's probably in middle school in this one, with an award in her hand for some other singing competition. Her fathers squeezing her shoulders on either side and they just look so happy.

And I stop dead in my tracks when I see the one of all the glee club with our trophy.

Rachel is beaming. And I'm pregnant.

My eyes swell with tears and my throat tightens. I feel like I'm driving on a dark and lonely road. So many warning signs pass me by and yet I still keep driving. From the moment we kissed, I felt lost in the most beautiful and terrifying way possible. Lost in the pits of my religion and my family's values and what I'd been through and what I've put her through. Lost in her eyes, her touch, her words, her essence. Lost in her everything.

I feel at the edge of a tall, tall building with the wind blowing so mercilessly, just waiting for me to fall. Taunting me, shoving me closer to the open space, not knowing whether or not I'd survive the landing. There's such a fine line; I can never tell the difference: is it thrill or fear? What if I love her, too? There's a tingling that shoots up my spine and it's kin to the feeling you get when you've reached the tippy top of the roller coaster and you're about to descend. You think, 'I am definitely going to die', but at the same time you feel absolutely free.

It's so frightening and I wonder why I've come here. I have one more step to go and I'm on the second floor. In so many ways, this is my life right now. That small step is both insignificant in size but is as tall as a mountain; totally immovable; a barrier; an obstacle. And yet, all I have to do is lift my leg, place the sole of my foot onto the top and push down. And I'm there. I'm there.

I release a shaky breath. My fingers begin to tremble and my body begins to shiver. Suddenly, it feels about 20 degrees colder in this house. _Who the hell turned down the air?_ I'm freezing. The feel of the knob beneath my palm is what leads me to believe it's nerves playing tricks on me. It's at a perfectly normal temperature. I close my eyes and repeat the same mantra I have been for the past couple of days, 'you can do this'.

When I release the knob, the door opens on its own revealing a very petite brunette sitting at the edge of her bed. Her hair is silky and falls with gorgeous locks down her back. She's effortlessly beautiful. My chest tightens. She's looking out the window, mindlessly. Or would she be mindful? Knowing Rachel Berry, that little mind of hers is _never_ off.

I realize that I've had my mouth open for several seconds and yet nothing as close to a peep has left it. For a second I panic, thinking I've gone mute and any career in the dramatic arts has just flown out Rachel's window. And then I blush. Well, because it's a very Rachel Berry thing to think.

My brows furrow and my eyes shut; my face hanging in defeat already when, "You left this here."

My whole body shakes when she speaks. The silence of the room now gone completely. Her voice is so soft. I can see the small smile threatening her lips. She's holding onto a thin camisole. Her hands, palms up, sliding beneath the fabric, feeling the texture over her fingertips.

"You left it the first time you came over. I didn't want you to remember, so I'd hide it in my nightstand." She laughs in a small huff. "Is that weird?"

It kills me how _Rachel_ she's being. And it's not bad or horrible or anything. It's endearing. It's flattering. All the while, she feels like I'd automatically think something of it. Which, by the way, is so wrong. She's absolutely wonderful.

My voice catches in my throat and I cough up a 'no'. I shake my head, "No, not at all."

I grab at my arm. Some sort of defense mechanism, I suppose. My foot rises, bends at the ankle, and I balance my weight on the opposite leg. I look at the floor. It's slightly irritating how bashful I can get at times.

She smiles with her lips shut. "Good." She places the camisole back in her drawer and turns her head just a little in my direction, but not far enough to meet my eyes. She pats the bed. An invitation.

A little noise escapes my lips and I motion toward the imprint on the bedspread. I sit. She doesn't look at me. Her hand creeps under mine and our fingers lace together. A volcano of butterflies erupts abruptly and my eyes water a little. Not with tears. _Please_. I'm just a little overwhelmed. That's all.

My heartbeat picks up. The pad of her thumb is circling over the skin of my hand. It feels so freaking nice. I missed her so much. There's an ache in my chest and now I really do feel like crying. I want to run away. Far, so far away. Away from her, and her lovely hands and what this all means. I want it to be wrapped up and put in a box and thrown out to sea. Whether the box drowns or floats, I don't care. My free hand balls up in a fist and nails dig into my palm. I need to calm down.

You'd swear it's magic or some type of supernatural power that she has. It's stupid, really; the way she brings her fingers to my face and I melt into a puddle. She traces the tear streak down to my jaw and she whispers, "Why are you crying?" Her voice so small, I can barely make out whether I heard it or imagined it.

It takes all of my strength to lift my shoulders to a tiny shrug and my brows knit tightly as I try to squeeze words through my swollen throat. Nothing works. I just make some sort of noise like, 'I don't know' and my entire body shakes.

She takes me and envelopes me in a comforting embrace. "Shh…" She tries to calm me down, but I feel like a dam; broken and shattered, and all the water just flows unevenly with no remorse. But I'm a natural disaster and she's the earth. No matter how destructive I can be, she remains rooted and ready for rebirth.

Her arms hold me tightly. She feels so warm. I think I've stopped crying. I just feel tired now. Sleepy. She lies back onto her bed and says, "Come here." I do. I move toward her. I nestle my head beneath her chin, arms folded in, wrists hiding under my own chin. I snuggle so impossibly close. Her hand runs through my hair and I blink away a few stray tears. I lay a small kiss onto her neck, she squeezes me a little tighter.

And for the first time, we simply fall asleep sleep in each other's arms.


	9. Chapter 8b

an (1): I have been stuck writing this chapter for weeks and please accept my sincerest apologies for it being put up much later than I thought it would. I honestly didn't want to put up anything I didn't even remotely like, y'know? I think this might be my favorite one, aside the first (and obviously the rest of the fic because it's my baby.)

an (2): A grand shout out to the wonderful justripping (tripupstairs here on ff) because I owe her big time for this shove. Thanks, love!

an (3): Dedicated to my ladies: Pervy, PC, Lellolamb, Marziiporn, and -sarfatis.

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><p>The fan swirls in a circle, over and over and over again. I am not quite sure how long I have been awake. My clock has been knocked to the floor, I assume, because it is no longer where it usually is. My only guess is that one of us got angry at the sound of the alarm and swatted it until it shut up, and it eventually fell. I chuckle a little at the thought, but I am quickly reminded of the fact that I have a sleeping body on top of me.<p>

I look down to find a blob of blonde hair on my chest, a hand across my ribs, and a thigh across my own. She shifts a little bit, but settles down just as fast. Her breathing is steady and she feels so warm. I spend a couple of minutes more, just lying in bed, soaking it all in. We've slept a lifetime. I feel like a bear, hibernating in the winter. I swear it has been at least 12 hours. Getting back to my morning regimen after today is going to cost me. But then again, her face snuggling onto my chest is just—_wow, am I at a loss for words?_

The sun is beginning to shine through the blinds, casting long shadows and peaking gold light over my room. I try to sneak out from under Quinn, but she's heavy and very asleep. She makes an dissatisfied noise, but motions off me just long enough for me to squeeze out. She hums and sighs, moving across to my side of the bed (our side now, I guess) and finds the warmth that left her just a few seconds before.

I slip on a robe and place my extra one on the edge of the bed. There's a little notepad that I had left out on my desk and I take the opportunity to write her a little note. I sign it with a star and I leave it atop the other robe. I take one last look at her before I walk down the stairs.

Her chest rises and falls at an even pace. I can barely see her face beneath all the hair. Her legs are sprawled and arms under her pillow. _You look amazing_.

.

I'm halfway done with the pancakes when I spot her coming downstairs. She's rubbing her eyes and holding my blanket to her face. _Jesus H, how can you be so damn cute?_

It's ridiculous, really. My mouth splits into a beaming smile and butterflies just burst into song and dance with hats and leotards and everything. It's an entire musical inside my body right now. My lungs are the MC. I take a deep breath and sigh.

"Morning, Sunshine."

"Mmm, good morning." Her voice is hoarse and sexy. She looks like a cub but she sounds like a lioness. _Incredible._

I look back down at the pancakes, flipping one over, realizing I'd nearly burnt one. She sits on a stool across the other side of the counter and watches me. Her head is lazily placed on her palm, with her hair in a complete mess. I try to hide my smile, but I simply cannot.

"What?" She asks softly.

I shake my head and bite my lips, suddenly feeling like a small child. "Nothing."

My smile proves otherwise. "You're lying to me," Quinn replies in a sing-song voice.

"Nope. No, I am not."

"Your little dimple is showing, Rach. The one by your mouth. You totally want to burst out laughing."

I stand for a few seconds—and thank Barbra I removed that last pancake off the pan or it would have gone up in smoke. She noticed my dimple. I'm not sure why I'm so perplexed, but I just stand there and stare at her as a smile creeps onto her face, while I'm sure my own face is on _fire_.

"You noticed." I say aloud anyway.

Quinn continues to smile and then adds, "I like butter on mine, by the way. And syrup, too."

"They're vegan," I snap out of it. She shrugs a little, not caring. "A-and to drink?"

"Milk."

"Soy, okay?"

.

We eat in silence. The sound of our forks on the plates echoes around the kitchen. I'm standing against the stove facing her, she's still sitting on the stool. Quinn stands and moves over to my side of the kitchen, across the counter where she was sitting, and opens the fridge.

Her legs are bare since she's just wearing a big t-shirt. I don't even remember us changing, to be honest. _God, she's just a goddess_. Try as I may, I cannot stop looking at her. I absently guide my fork down to the piece of breakfast and take it to my mouth; savoring it, chewing it, swallowing it, continuing to eye her ever curve, skin tone, muscle, vein, _everything_.

Quinn takes out the soy milk and pours herself another cup, then places it back in the fridge and turns to me.

"Come here," she chuckles and it sounds like angels. "You've got some…"

Her voice fades and turns into a lip bite. I move forward a step and a half. She meets me half way. Right away, my heart starts pounding like a loud and obnoxious drum. I wonder if she can hear it. It's echoing in my head. Her thumb grazes the corner of my mouth, where I'm assuming there was some syrup because I realize it is sticky all down to my chin. Noticing the smearing was done on purpose, I scoff. "Oh, thanks!"

I turn to grab a napkin and play it off like I'm _not_ shaking, but she takes my chin in her hands and gently turns me back to her. "I wasn't done." Then she proceeds to lean close and leave open mouth kisses, cleaning up the syrup on my face, until her lips land lightly on my own.

I moan softly. She feels heavenly. No matter how many times I kiss Quinn Fabray, it always manages to feel like the first time. I somehow end up back against the counter again and the pressure of her whole body flushed against mine is delicious. Her hipbones poke at my abdomen; my hips buck forward eliciting a moan to die for from her.

Our kiss is languid and thorough. Her tongue brushes over mine so gingerly, but the sensation is like lightning. It strikes me in all the right places, like being teased without being properly touched and it is driving me insane. Then, like a wish answered, I feel her fingertips tracing circles on my sides, over my back. My hands snake around her neck and I deepen the kiss.

She squeezes here and there. _God_, she knows just what to do. I'm reeling and drowning in a sea of pleasure and just from a kiss. It is absolutely thrilling. I want more, I want all of her, but her hand smashes onto a plate of pancakes when I suck on her bottom lip and we break apart.

Her mouth hangs ajar at the interesting feel of mush and sticky syrup—I'm assuming—and she burst out in giggles. I try my best not to automatically join her, maybe show her a bit of sympathy? I mean, it is gross and gooey. But instead, I grab her hand and bring her palm to my mouth. I lick off the syrup. At first I meant it to help, but it turned into something else the second I brought her index finger into my mouth, enveloping it with my lips and swirling my tongue around it, leaving it clean.

Quinn's eyes flutter, suddenly no longer a bright hazel, but a dark color. "Fuck, Rachel…"

She doesn't finish her sentence as she leans into a hungry kiss, her other hand gripping the back of my neck tightly. _Jesus, Barbra, Mary, and Joseph_. Oh, _wow_. She wastes no time in slipping her tongue back into my mouth and dragging it slowly across mine, pressing her entire body onto mine. She's burning hot, and I'm sure I'm not far away from it either. I feel myself soak through my underwear as she moans deeply into my mouth. I don't know how much more I can take of this whole no-touching business. I need her.

_I need you_.

"I need you, too," she whispers huskily against my ear. When did she get there? _I said that out loud?_ God, who cares? My leg lifts and wraps against one of hers. Quinn's tongue now traveling over my jaw. One of her arms is around my back, and I arch right into her when she nips at _that_ spot on my neck. She groans against my skin and her breath is hot and I swear nothing feels better.

Nothing can possibly ever feel better than her body on mine; her seething breath over my skin; her tongue swirling with mine; her moans in my ear; her taste; her everything. Nothing. Absolutely _nothing. _ I want her all day and everyday. I want her to be mine to hold and comfort and make feel good. I want her always. I love her. _I love you_.

She stops abruptly and her forehead rests in the crook of my neck. An exasperated sigh onto my collarbone makes me gasp. _I said it out loud again, didn't I?_ Fuck. _Fuck_. _No, Quinn, please_. I cup her face and bring her eyes on mine. She already has tears building, hanging on by an eyelash.

"Quinn, please, just look at me," I beg, my voice sounding so small. I sound like an idiot, but Quinn isn't running away just yet. That's a good sign. "Baby, please."

Her hazel eyes flash to mine. A single tear trickles down her cheek. My thumb catches it and spreads it. She leans in briefly and kisses one off my cheek. I am crying, too. After a few seconds, I know she's not leaving. I look into her gorgeous eyes. She takes a shuddering breath, trying to keep herself composed. "Don't be afraid," I whisper, "let me know you. Please…"

She tries to look away, but I catch her gaze again, "Quinn, please, just-" I don't know what else to say other than please, over and over. _What can I say to make you stay, Quinn?_ "Just—just let me in."

She sighs. Simply sighs. Hazel eyes suddenly hide behind her eyelids. Her chest expands sharply and then releases slowly. _Have you made your decision?_ I wait, impatiently. My heart race picks up dramatically. My chest feels like it is about to erupt.

Then she opens her eyes, tears gone. She holds the back of my neck and pulls me into a small, wonderful kiss. And another one. And another. They travel over my jaw and to my ear and I'm confused and aroused all at once.

I feel her other hand clasp mine, intertwining our fingers. She squeezes tightly just once before she whispers in my ear, "follow me," and tugs my hand, walking to the stairs.


	10. Chapter 9

**I'd like all of you who have kept up with this story to please read the author's notes? Thank you.**

an (1): Wow, I am spent. I literally finished this chapter a minute ago and I'm kind of shaking? It took a lot out of me. Anyway, firstly, there are no words to express how I feel about all of you who have individually pressed 'favorite' and 'follow' on this story. It started as something so minor as a one shot and turned into something else. There might not be much plot at all, but there are feelings that are very real. I just really would like to thank you for sticking around and trusting me to continue something I never thought I would.

an (2): With that said, I think that I am finishing this story with another chapter following this one. I'm still debating, but chances are, that's what's going to happen. Don't worry, there will be other one shots, because how can we not write any for these two crazy kids, right? Anyhow, I hope you enjoy this installment for it is one of my favorites. I love you all and (I know you hear it enough and probably hate it, but) please review! It means a heck of a lot to me when you do.

Enjoy.

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><p>When you're a little girl and grow up in a household like mine, it's hard to detach from the dream you've been raised to dream.<p>

There's my mother and my father. We go to church on Sundays and then I go to youth group on Fridays. There are family dinners and Bridge Game Thursdays. There are functions to go to, big fake smiles to display, and lots of people to be introduced to. There's also an older sister, who is beautiful and perfect. And then there's the shadow I sleep under.

I grow up to think that this is life and this is how things are. I come home from school and I do my homework, silently and efficiently. I definitely know I don't want to upset Russell Fabray (especially after he locks himself in his den and there's no hearing from him until I'm in my room and I'm supposed to be asleep—it's past my bed time—and there's glass breaking and there's loud yelling.)

I then assume that I needed to be perfect. I needed to find a man who will later be my husband. A man I could proudly let wrap his arm around me and call me his trophy wife. No matter how dysfunctional everything at home was, it was something I wanted to have because it was familiar.

Of course, then life spirals off its tracks and ends up in the middle of nowhere and leaves you lost, with child and no support. My so-called family deteriorates before my eyes. It just fades into nothing. He said he didn't recognize me anymore. Like I'd gotten back from surgery and instead of just my nose, they had changed _everything_. I just wasn't the prim and proper little girl they had raised.

I can sit here and say I expected everything to derail, but in reality, the fact that everything actually fell apart… It still hits you like a brick house, you know? When it finally sinks in that your father ran off with another woman, your mother dove into alcoholism, and your sister hardly ever contacts you—it's unsettling. It makes your angry and you lash out and you stop believing that people stick around.

You stop believing in anything.

So, when I'm in the choir room and she steps closer to me, I think _maybe I want something different_. And that maybe I've been angry at all the wrong things; all the wrong people. Perhaps, all the answers lie behind those chocolate colored eyes and beneath the touch of her fingertips.

And when—after many restless days and sleepless nights of searching for those answers under her, on top of her, against the wall, in the bathtub—she stands there, against the counter, making me feel all kinds of crazy emotions, saying things like "I love you", of course I'm going to freak out.

Of course I'd feel like my heart is being plied apart and then being trampled over.

_What if she's just like them? What if she leaves? What if I ruin everything? What if she ends up hating me, too?_ All these horrible what-if's invade my mind and run circles in my head, making tears rise and my heart race. I hide my face and I hear the panic in her voice.

"_Let me in_," she says.

So, I count to five. I let the fear seep into my veins and run its course. I let it shake me and rip me to shreds, but only for five seconds.

One.

_She'll leave._

Two.

_She'll never forgive me for all I've done to her._

Three.

_We'll break each other._

Four.

_She deserves better._

Five.

Inhale. Exhale.

I take her hand and I squeeze it a little. I say, "follow me," and lead her to the stairs. I don't look back at her. I can't look back at her. If I do, the fear will just stampede over me and take me with it. It will take me far away. Away from the only good thing in my life right now.

Her room is dimly lit with the rays of the morning sun. _What time is it?_ My heart is pounding so loudly and so strongly, it feels like a heart attack. Or what I assume to be one. I shake my head. I'm overreacting. I'm so nervous.

I feel her tug at my fingers and I slowly turn to her. My eyes trail the piano keys printed on the carpet, they're almost mocking our first encounter. I can feel the worry radiate from Rachel's body. But more than that, I feel her concern and her need to make me feel safe. She wraps her arms around me. I rest my cheek on top of her head, then turn my face a little to place a small kiss onto her hair.

"I never understood you," I finally speak. She motions to look up at me but I can't let her do that. I shake my head against her and she just continues to hold me. "I tried to break you into a million little pieces, and sometimes I think I might have, but in reality, it was only a scratch. You're this tall oak tree, firmly planted, rooted into the ground, and I'm just a dumb kid trying to climb it, brake all its branches, and eat from the fruit.

I yank all the apples and think this might hurt you, but you only grow more; you grow taller, and stronger, somehow. And I hated it. I hated it because I didn't understand. I resented you because I resented myself for not being as bright as you."

She can't help but raise her head to look at me this time. Her eyes are filled with tears and she has to bite her lip to keep it from quivering. It almost hurts to keep her gaze but I need to let it out. I need to let it go.

"The truth is… I've wanted everything to do with you since the moment I saw you—since I heard you sing. It absolutely killed me in every which way. And it took me a long time to accept this—" I grab at my chest and I close my eyes. I try and swallow past this enormous ball in my throat, "—this intense _need_ to be around you. And I'm so, _so_ sorry for everything I've done in spite of your feelings in order to deal with my own."

Her mouth opens, but I lightly cover it with my hand. "I realized I never wanted to hurt you, not really, not _ever._ Every time you touch me, everything bad just melts away. I close my eyes and I can finally breathe. You stayed there that day, in the choir room, and I knew that was it. My life was never going to be the same."

Rachel grips me tighter, that's when I realize I've been shaking the entire time. I take a few minutes to breathe in and out, calming my heart. We stand in silence, just holding each other.

"The other night, when you said you loved me and I ran away, I prayed for the first time in a long time."

"You did?" I finally hear her muffled little voice under my chin.

I nod. "I prayed you wouldn't leave me."

"I would never," she whispers looking up at me. Her eyes sparkle. There's an entire constellation of stars. She looks from one of my eyes to the other, and they twinkle. "I would never." She repeats. Her hands cup my face and she brings her lips onto mine. She kisses me like she's never meant it so much in her life. It's as if she's trying to tell me over and over, "I would never leave you," with every stroke of her tongue, every brush of her lips. Every worry evaporates through my pores.

She moves forward to the bed until the back of my knees hit the mattress. The contact makes me gasp and we break apart for a few seconds. We're breathing heavily, her forehead now resting on my chin. Her eyes find mine. "Lie back."

My brows furrow, but Rachel shakes her head lightly with a small smile, "Just trust me?"

My eyes close briefly as I take a deep breath. _Let go. Let go. Let go._ I nod and settle on the bed, moving back and lying in the middle of the mattress. She unties her robe and shrugs it off. She's stunning, in her silly star pajamas and her rustled and imperfect. Everything about her imperfections make her perfect. All loose ends just tie together and form this gorgeous woman right in front of me.

Rachel climbs onto the bed. Her eyes study me, all of me. I suddenly feel naked—even though I'm not too far off. Her fingers trace over my skin. Goosebumps erupt. I sigh heavily. She crawls closer. She's straddling me now, one knee on each side of my hips. The contact soothes me a little.

"You're so beautiful," I whisper, although I swore I thought it only. She smiles. Her hair is dangling over me as she hovers with both hands palms down next to my ears. My hands travel over her sides and chest, landing softly on her face. Her eyes close as I outline every feature on her face.

"Your eyes," I brush my fingertips over her lashes, "they are light the night's sky. Dark and mysterious, but twinkle so bright that I find my way anywhere.

When you lie beneath me," I pause, my fingers over her nose. "When I reach a sweet spot, there's a small, sharp inhale that I love to hear.

And your lips," I chuckle. She bites her bottom one. "Your lips feel like silk and taste like honey." I can't help but bring her closer to me; bring her lips onto mine, as some sort of validation for my own words. _Yes, that's accurate. So very accurate_. "They make me feel all kinds of things I cannot explain." I kiss her again. "Every time they're on me, I break apart, I melt, I freeze, I come apart at the seems. They destroy me and just when I think—" I grab her face and gently push her back so that I can sit up with her on me, "—just when I think they're the worst thing that could have happened to me, these hands, these arms, your legs, your face, your everything, Rachel—"

My chest constricts and she looks pale. She looks the same as when I left her that night. She looks like she's holding on by a thread. I squeeze her shoulders and then thread my fingers into her hair. I nearly sob aloud, but I need to keep it together. This is so important.

"Rachel, you complete me. You hold me together, you stitch me up. It's like you are the blood coursing through my veins, and without you, I just don't function." She exhales so loudly. She'd been holding her breath the entire time. "It's so fucking scary, to want—no, to need someone this badly. It's so scary to not be able to think about anything or anyone else. You understand that, right?"

I grab her face and brush my thumb over her tear streaked face, "you get it, right, Rachel?"

She nods. I'm trying. I'm trying really hard to say the words, but I'm only walking circles around them. And Rachel is just waiting, itching to hear them. She's already said them twice. Her heart is bare and I sit holding it, holding her in silence.

"God," I look up and I gasp. Fuck, fuck it, _fuck it._ My eyes meet hers. She's looking at me so expectantly. "Fuck—fuck it," I breathe, "God, fuck it, I just—I love you so much."

I swear it's like an exorcism. This dark cloud has been sucked out of my body along with every ounce of fright and stupidity. All the shackles just disintegrate and I'm fucking free. I'm—fuck, I want to cry.

I kiss her. I kiss her so hard, like I haven't kissed her in a million years and somehow it feels like it still isn't enough. I heard her gasp and I went for it. Her hands grip me so tight for a second before breaking apart from me lifting the large shirt off my body. We crash onto one another full force. It's not enough. _It's not enough, it's not enough_. I pry off her camisole and let my hands and arms envelop her, trying my best to keep us balanced.

Her teeth rake over my jaw and down my neck desperately and my nails do the same down her back. I need her so much closer. I need her always. I feel her breasts on me, her nipples over my own and—fuck, "I need you, Rachel."

Her sneaky hands peel off my underwear and I take the opportunity to slide hers off as well. Finally, we are completely bare; both literally and figuratively. Everything is in the open and we're ready. _I'm_ ready. "Make love to me, Rachel."

She sinks on top of me. There's an indescribable look upon her face. Her lip is held captive by her teeth shortly before hissing a, "yes," in my ear and continuing her sweet torture on my neck. I feel her hand slip between us and come in contact with my clit. I gasp. Her fingers start slow, elaborate circles and I bring my mouth to her shoulder. I leave big, open mouth kisses over her skin while my hands further explore her naked back.

My hands cup her breasts and she sighs onto my skin. Her breath is scorching hot on my collarbone. I want more of her. So much more. "Rachel," my voice is so hoarse from the crying earlier and the night before.

She moans. "Yes?"

"Can I touch you?"

Her right hand stops its movements between my legs briefly and I whine a little.

"_Please?_" I beg.

I feel her left hand tighten its grip in my hair when I finally catch her eyes. She kisses me softly, but it's only when I hear her say yes, that I remember what it's like to feel her inside of me. Two digits, pumping painfully slow, in and out of me.

"_Fuck_." I kiss her back hard as my own fingers settle inside of her and she breaks apart to gasp. We've never done this before. It's messy and uncoordinated, but I've never felt so connected to her than I do now. Her head dips and she rests her forehead in the crook of my neck. I feel her hot breath on my skin once again. I position myself the same way on her; one arm holding her tight against me, the other hand working on her, causing her to elicit such delicious fucking sounds. We move faster and harder and just as I feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge I lift her head. I make her look at me. Her eyes are barely open, her lips ajar and taking small gasps. I know she's almost there, too.

"R-Rachel," I can hardly get the words out.

"Hmm?" She whimpers, pumping deeper. _Fuck_.

"Come with me."

Her eyebrows furrow and she bites her lip, nodding desperately.

I thrust into her harder, pushing my thumb onto her clit. She does, too. "Now, Rachel. Come now."

"_Fuck_, Quinn!"

It sounds like an echo in the back of my mind. Her screaming my name like that. We're both just falling in space, surrounded by galaxies and planets and stars. There's explosions of lights behind closed eyelids and sounds of gasping breaths and whispering names. Our bodies stiffened and we rocked back and forth for a few seconds before the release just stole all of our energy. We were like shaken champagne bottles, waiting to erupt. The loud calling of my name, the sound of the cork shooting out of the bottle.

"Oh, God, I love you, I love you, Rachel," my voice is light like the wind.

I can hear her smile, "I love you, too, Quinn. So much."


	11. Chapter 10

**Please read the author's notes.**

a (1): first and foremost, I would like to thoroughly apologize for waiting nearly a damn year to finish this story. a shit ton of stuff has happened in my life in the past few months and I've had to deal with all of it basically alone, but anyway, I digress. this chapter was so hard for me to write, because I love this story so very much. unfortunately, for my readers, there is so sexy times. perhaps I'll write an extra chapter some time down the line as a side one shot. (perhaps, sneaky sex when they have a kid? hmmm..)

a (2): as always, I have no beta so any mistakes here are mine (even though it's pretty much always been AU.)

a (3): now, this chapter is dedicated to all my muses throughout this entire journey. you know who you are.

enjoy the last installment of this wonderful story that is/was my first faberry fic! (reviews are _always_ welcome.)

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><p>Sometimes, you look back and think of what you could have done differently. You know, that question: if I knew then what I know now...<p>

You think, maybe I should have worn better clothes or been more into 'today's fashion'. Perhaps, if you would've been nicer, talked to someone, or found a healthy way to release anger…

But, then again, these are the things that guide you down a path to your future. Sure, you have choices. We all have choices. And even if these choices weren't necessarily great ones—or ones that would have launched you in the popular crowd—these choices are what lead you to the present.

Little by little, however, you start to pick up on things. You realize that, the world doesn't revolve around you. Not everyone needs to cater to your wants and needs.

You realize that, not everyone is to blame for the things you've been through. You start to see that your anger only blinds you.

And you want to be better. You want to be nicer. You want to be considerate. You want to care.

You want to love.

So, you come back to the day you first met. The bright red cheerios uniform; the knee-high's and the animal sweaters. The menacing glance; the scared look away. The fierce shoulder bump in the middle of the hall; the comments you'd receive on your MySpace videos.

The slow but sure change in attitude as you confront each other. You'd torture her if roles were reversed, but she smiles back and walks away. The way your masks falls right off your face when you turn to watch her go.

The second she joins the glee club—and even under false pretenses—you think to yourself that she, deep down, was starting to enjoy it. (And when she shows that quiet smile during the routines, you _know_.)

The quivering you felt deep in your stomach when you stood up to Sue Sylvester and demanded the yearbook pages. (And the blushing in your cheeks when you realize you've done something for another _girl_.)

You close your eyes, and then suddenly, it's lightning fast and you feel like you can almost catch it; like raindrops or sand, slipping through your fingers. There's no real control or knowing what will happen. Not until it does. It hits you hard. And you fall. But you land on soft clouds of God knows what. And you float and you smile and you cry and you feel.

You feel.

It's hard to really know when it starts or see where it will end. Most of the time you don't even want to catch a glimpse of the finish line. You want to stay on the same track forever and never have it come to a close. On the way you see flowers and sunshine and butterflies and rainbows and sometimes it rains but even if it's a terrible thunderstorm, you make sure your eyes never leave the sunlight.

It's scary for some and beautiful for others. And sometimes it's a bittersweet mix of both. It humbles you and lifts you and you can fly high above the rest. It's a feeling unlike any other, really.

There are smiles and laughter and snuggles and pillow fights. Then there are real fights. There's silence. There are tears and small cracks along your heart. But, don't worry, they heal in time.

There are apologies and there are hugs and there are 'I love you's and there are screams. There are pants and there's sweating and there's touching and trips to the moon and back.

The sun rises and it sets. The moon is bright and the stars shine. And you hold hands and kiss lips and whisper things and drink champagne.

Nights on the town, sitting in cabs, and sharing a bike at the park. Ice cream (vegan) and bacon—but there won't be kisses until teeth are brushed. Noses scrunch and lips are bitten and lashes are batted and cheeks are flushed.

Words about moving away or escaping are shared. Words about the future and kids and weddings. Words that might not seem like much of anything now, but in retrospect, are all serious and hopeful. Words about family and values and pride and love. Words that mean a heck of a lot to one and the other squeezes a hand and reassurance is understood.

There are spotlights and flowers and songs to be sung. There are words to be written and acted and critiqued. There are train rides and time spent away. There are noses in books and piles of notes to be studied; tests to be taken and classes to ace. There are lonely nights. And there are lovely nights. There are embraces and tangled limbs and kisses and hello's and see-ya-later's. But you survive and you long for the next time.

Graduations, congratulations, celebrations, and happiness. Bliss. Joy.

Boxes filled with things file empty hallways and paint buckets and stains on faces and smiles and laughter echoes. Picture frames with familiar faces, on mountains and in cheerleading uniforms and holding microphones, all along the walls. Candles and music play at night, and in the day, the dog barks at the cat. After long work days, there's a couch to lie on and a television to watch and popcorn to be made and sometimes there's wine in crystal cups.

Bills may pile up, but 'where there's a will, there's a way' and you plow through the rough times and you tell them to kiss your ass. Friends come over to talk, to visit. Other times fathers come and surprise their daughter and other times a mom comes to bond. A few times, a sister as well.

Life is good. You work hard, you come home, you have dinner, and perhaps watch one of her reality tv shows.

You lie in bed and you ask her, "Do you ever think about the past?"

"How so?" She replies.

"Would you ever want a redo?"

There's a bit of silence, while she thinks. Finally she whispers, "Never."

"Really?"

"Of course, baby. I wouldn't be here... With you."

"With me?" You fish.

"Yeah, silly." She grabs your arm and wraps it around her. "There's no where else I'd rather be than right here. In this shitty apartment, in this beautiful room, and on this lovely bed, with the most beautiful woman in the world."

You blush, but it's too dark to tell. Her fingers intertwine with yours and you smile, squeeze her tight for a few seconds, and before you close your eyes, you think, you _must_ be the luckiest girl in the world.

And all you have to give thanks for, was that day in the choir room, where one of you stayed by the piano and where one of you took those three steps forward.


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